Le Diable Blanc
by xianflux
Summary: My take on Movieverse Gambit, starting from his years in New Orleans and going on beyond. GambitStorm. First part of my series, with a sequel soon to follow! Completed. R&R.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Le Diable Blanc, the White Devil. Remy LeBeau. Gambit. A many of many names, and as many titles. Thief, X-man, Scoundrel, Rogue, Gambler, Trickster. This is his story, or rather, my telling of his story in movie-verse. Heavily reliant on canon in the early parts of Remy's life, but very divergent in the X-men years because of the changes to characters such as Rogue in movie-verse. This is not a Romy story, as forewarning.

--

The first whispers and rumors of Le Diable Blanc go back to the late 70's, but those rumors are only to be found within the hallowed halls of the Thieves and Assassins Guilds of New Orleans. Both legendary crime syndicates in their own rights, renowned the world over as home of the best of the best in each of their respective fields. It's no surprise that the first rumors of Le Diable Blanc originate within the Thieves Guild, all coming from one of three men. Jean-Luc LeBeau and the two men he had with him the night he stole an infant.

That is one secret even Jean-Luc never lets a whispered word of from who or where Gambit had been stolen from. As a mutant infant, he was stolen for the Antiquiary. A subset of the Guilds who was collecting mutants even before the world realized there were such a thing as mutants, years before even one Jean Grey would have a mental break down or be found by Charles Xavier.

It was a daring theft though, but one which Jean-Luc LeBeau topped with an even more daring Theft. He stole the infant back from the Antiquary no less then two weeks later, unable to live with himself at pushing a child into that kind of life that he had haunted nightmares about. So it was that the young infant would temporarily find a home to be raised in, but the Patriarch had a plan even if no one else knew about it. A cruel plan, but a plan none the less. He needed the devil eyed child to be strong, and he knew only one way to ensure that.

And thus begins Gambit's tale. 


	2. An Angel named Bella

Disclaimer: I do not own Gambit, nor any other Marvel character.

* * *

N'awlins winters were, thankfully, not as severe as in other parts of the world. The boy in hole filled clothes was thankful for this fact on a daily basis in the month of January. Cold, but bearable. Of all his clothes, the small sunglasses were what he was proudest of. His most cherished possession filched from a vendor in the summer. Those precious dark glasses kept the pain of the sun from his eyes, and more importantly, kept people from seeing his cursed eyes.

Eyes that earned him kicks, and shouts of 'Devil'. Reactions he'd gotten so used to he'd come to expect them in the years he'd lived on the street. Sleeping in dumpsters, buildings awaiting demolishing, anywhere he could find that might blessedly be called a 'safe' place for a night. That was the important part, safety. Shelter was secondary to safety.

His stomach groaned in protest of being empty, yet again. Even at his young age – not that he or anyone else could really say how old he was, he was accounted one of the best filchers on the streets. Sometimes he hung with a group of urchins, but that had ended illy too many times for him to do it except during times of duress. Young children were jealous, and being close to others always pressed in on him. He didn't like it. Yet even the best of young thieves amongst the urchins, vendors learned the tricks used against them over time. It was an ever changing game of adaptation.

It was the one thing the young red-brown haired child was a master at. Adapting, thinking on his toes. He'd never been given a choice in the matter though. Right now, the youth stared in envy at a mother leading a child his age out of an ice cream shop. Ice cream wasn't very filling, but it looked so good, and the child looked so happy with it.

"Get out of here boy!" Jumping, and scurrying down the alleys, the thief only shot a hidden yet cautious glare behind him as the baker threw out the unsold bits of yesterday. _Merde. Dat was gonna be my breakfast! Fat bastard be slow today, shoulda waited around de corner._

Running feet only carried him so far, at war with a growling stomach. Crawling through a construction site, the boy came to a halt upon hearing a high pitched young womans voice.

"Ya better be getting ya hands off me, or ya gonna be--" she was shouting, before a shriek went into the air. One of pain, as one of the two men assaulting her cried out in pain at getting a foot in the groin. It was the young girls turn to shriek when she got back handed by the man once he got back up, while his compatriot held her.

The boy was frozen in place for what seemed like eternity. The young woman was beautiful, in a white dress that looked the type he'd seen wealthier women wearing into Church. She was the most enchanting thing he'd ever seen – and that was saying a lot, when everything you saw looked enchanting or exquisite and far far beyond the reach of a street urchin who struggled just to survive. Worse yet, the Angel, he'd decided that's what she was, was sending off waves of fear and pain. He couldn't let these men do anything to her!

It was then he became aware of the wind gusting against his face, and his feet pounding against pavement – he was moving. Already in movement, the youth took stock of his arsenal such as it was. A rock, and a knife that was just a touch too large for him. It would have to do. As he bounced down from a higher perspective, jumping down with anger he'd never felt the match of, dirty feet struck the first man in the face. Gravity and momentum alone could only explain why such a large man would stumble from such a blow.

Even as he scrambled to his feet, he was launching the rock at the other mans face, before spinning and lashing the man he'd kicked in the stomach with his knife. Even as the one he stabbed started to howl in pain, so did the other man. Who had a finely made dagger protruding from his side.

And very much unlike how he thought this might play out, the angel had grasped his arm, smiled a bright young girls smile at him as if she'd just won a game of tag and jerked his hand. "C'mon, we gotta get outta here. Dese fools mebbe got friends!"

The sound of two childrens feet as they fled interspersed with the groans and moans of the injured men.

Panting. There had been much of that, when they came to a stop blocks away in a park. The young boy panting even more then the girl, as he fell onto the ground admists the bunch of bushes they'd settled into. A hiding spot he knew well.

"Thanks for de help. I'm Bella. Y'gotta name?" When his Angel spoke to him again, he looked up at her from his panting. Her gaze wasn't entirely dismissive, but she was eying him with some distaste. Or perhaps, eying his rags and bare feet with distaste.

"You an Angel?" It was out of his lips before he even thought about it. But she was so pretty, even a bit sweaty and rumpled now. Her eyes a blue just hinted towards almost purple, her lovely gold hair in braids. She looked like an Angel. But what would an Angel be doing talking to him? They all called him demonspawn.

The sound of her laughter was almost like music, and then she was grinning a big grin. "Non. Not an Angel. Y'got a name or not? An why ya wearing dem silly glasses huh?" She was taking a step closer to him, and poked him lightly with a finger. His disappointment cut by the fact she'd touched him, even if it was a poke.

"Uhh. Ya promise not ta scream or kick me?"

"Oui. Why I do dat anyway?"

"It what dey normally do t'me. Dey call me Diable, or Le Diable Blanc.." His tone was laced with apprehension, before he grinned and put his best face forward. All bravado and cocky arrogance, as he whipped the sunglasses off, expecting her to shriek and run away in fear.

Instead she just grinned at him, his Angel. "Dem some beautiful eyes, but ya ain' got a normal name?"

"Non. Just get called lotta things. Demon, devil, pup.. Mostly de Devil though."

"How come ya ain't got a name?"

"Ain't never had no one give me one. Dat's what ya parents supposed t'do. Don't seem right ta pick one for ma own self."

"Den I give you one. Ain't ya parents, but if ya won't pick one.. Can't be having de boy who saved me be not having a name, now can we?"

The boy was eying her with a touch of awe. Usually the rich kids were stuck up, or spoke down to him. She was talking to him, and her smile just reaffirmed that she was an Angel to him, even if she denied it. He'd saved an Angel. Even if it looked like she hadn't needed quite as much saving as he thought she might... and Angels probably didn't stab people. His Angel was special though, just like him. He could tell that already.

"Dat be fine wit' me."

"How ya like Remy?"

"Remy, huh? Oiu. I like dat." He flashed her a grin.

And then blocks away, Church bells began to chime. Ten times. His Angel frowned, muttered something very unAngel like, and then leaned forward and brushed a kiss to his dirty cheeks.

"T'anks Remy. I gotta go! My poppa.." And then she was running once again.

Leaving the newly dubbed Remy to stare after the departing Angel in a white dress, grinning a fool grin on his boyish face. "Huh.. An Angel named Bella. Wonder if I see her again?"

The spot her lips had touched his cheek felt warm still, and the slight chill to the day didn't seem so bad anymore, and for a moment at least, he didn't feel the hunger gnawing at his middle anymore either.

_I hope so_.


	3. A Real Home

Disclaimer: I do not own Gambit, or any other X-men characters.

* * *

Unfortunately, the hunger did not stay gone. By the sound of bells, it was two hours later before he finally quit squirming or touching his cheek at the remembered warmth. Pulled out of his remembrance of his Angel by the loud gurgling of his stomach. He needed food, and not just dumpster salvaged food. He hadn't had a real bit of food in almost a week now.

A shrug of the boys shoulders, and he came out of hiding to start stalking for prey. The best places were on Bourbon Street. Where he'd be mistaken for a begger instead of a thief. All he needed was a few dollars. Ten dollars would be enough to fill his stomach up with more than it could ever handle in one sitting, and give him a dinner besides. Even if it was just breads and cheese.

You had to be careful when picking a mark. You didn't want to go after the ones who looked like they might chase you. The more wealthy were often the best bet, because they were too dignified to get that upset to the point of beating him if they did chase him, and they usually had good money too. Or were soft and out of shape.

How long he watched, he wasn't sure, before he slipped from the alleys to tail along behind his mark. He didn't strike until the man stopped to talk to a street vendor, that's when he bumped into him, offered a 'sorry mister' and calmly walked back towards an alley with a wallet in his fingers. Never run right away, not unless they notice. The wallet felt thick too, real thick. Score.

Just as his he was about to get to the alley and safety – he could lose anyone in the alleys as long as he got a little bit of a headstart, was when it all went oh so very wrong. Wronger then he'd ever had it go in his short life. When a strong hand grasped his shoulder, and slipped the wallet right out of his hands. Even as he started to struggle, that sole hand held his shoulder like a vice grip.

"Dunno how ya pulled dat off petite, but if I hadn't been bout ta pay for my paper never woulda noticed ya even lifted dat from me. Ya got a deft touch." The man was giving him a considering gaze, as if weighting him against a scale. Oddest of all, he didn't seem off put by Remy's dirty clothes.

"Ya wasn't supposed ta notice, mister. Lemme go, ya got ya wallet back. Lemme go or I start crying rape, see how long ya last I do dat." Threatened with that, the older man just chuckled.

"I let ya go in a bit petite. What ya name?" At the question, the boy puffed up and smirked as if it was a very important answer he was about to give.

"De names Remy, an I de best t'ief on dese streets!"

"Dat so childe?" A finger rubbing his chin. "I'm Jean-Luc LeBeau." He was looking for name recognition in the youths face. Of which there was none.

"Dat so old man. Now y'let me go!" Dirty feet reaching out to try and kick him, to get free.

"Non. Well Remy, since ya de best t'ief on de streets, an I stole a thing or two in my own time, how bout we settle dis. Ya got fast hands petite. I get ya lunch, dinner too, and ya can crash at de LeBeau house hold tonight, eh? Honor amongst t'ieves an all dat."

"Nuh-uh. I know how dis game works. You jus' be letting me go or I start screamin."

"Fine petite, have it ya way." His hand released Remy, and it startled the young thief he didn't immediately bolt.

"Listen childe, ya change ya mind..." Remy filed the directions to the house away, even as he bolted down the alleys seeking freedom.

* * *

As twilight settled across New Orleans, a young boy scurried past a gate. Awestruck at the massive home of the man he'd met on the street that day. It'd been a very bad day, and he'd gotten caught while trying to filch some food. It'd taken him a half hour to lose the two men who'd taken to chasing him. A half hour, and he still had barely avoided escaping with more then a bruise on his back where a thrown object – he still thought it was probably a trash can lid; had hit him in the back.

_Lucky throw. Bastards. Need some food. Hope dis guy be legit. He better not try ta touch me or nothing, or I make him regret it._

With trepidation, he knocked. When no one answered, he realized there was a buzzer and hit that instead. Which got a response, when the door opened. Remy blinked a time or two, as he looked up at the heavy set black woman who stood there.

"Ya must be Remy, huh childe? C'mon in. Jean-Luc said dat mebbe we be having a vistor tonight. Come on in, but careful not ta get nothing dirty like childe."

"De name is Remy, not childe." He growled.

"Dat what I said, ain't it? Now c'mon. You need a bath, by time we get ya clean de gumbo be jus' about done."

"Don't wanna bath."

"Well childe, ya don't have a bath, ya don't get no gumbo."

Laughter made both turn their heads, as Jean-Luc stepped from his study grinning at the young boy and Tante Mattie.

"Glad ta see dat ya took up my offer, petite. Ain' much point in arguing wit' her Remy. Trust me, de food be wort' it, eh?" A conspiratorial grin, as the large woman didn't even give Remy time to try and argue about it, as she grabbed him in her arms and dragged him to get clean whether he wanted to or not.

* * *

A week later, Remy was still staying with them. A little hellion, that child was, but it brought life back to Jean-Luc LeBeau's household in a way that had been missing for years. Getting him to accept new clothes had been a war in and of itself, and getting him to go to bed at a decent time yet another war. Despite the young boys apparent gratitude for food and a warm place, he was a proud child and wasn't used to living by other peoples rules.

"Ya can't be serious bout dis den?" Henri LeBeau asked his father, in apparent astonishment.

"Ya be sure as ya name is Henri dat I am. De boy gonna be a LeBeau."

"De Guild, ain't gonna like dis father. Be one thing t'adopt him into one of de other guild families, but ya adopt him as ya own and he gonna be in de running for succession.."

"Don't care what dat pack of wolves in sheeps clothin t'ink bout it Henri, Remy gonna be a LeBeau. I saw de way ya been playing wit' him de last few days, ya can't tell me ya ain't happy to have a younger brother."

"Ain't dat Père. Just.. ya sure bout dis?"

A long drawn breath from the older man.

"I spoke my mind on dis, Henri. Dat de way it gonna be. Remy gonna be ya brother."

"D'accord."

"Don't fight it, Henri. Ya my oldest an only blood son, dat ain't gonna change. Dere a lot ya could teach Remy too. I see he already conned ya into teaching him to pick locks already too.."

"Yeah, I regretting dat already too. De little t'ief already got into my room while I out yesterday, came home ta finding him playing wit' dat Angel figurine I swiped in Florence last year."

"Heh. Let it be, Henri. Remy just got a fixation on Angels, dat all. It harmless enough. Why don't ya go try and help ya cousin with teaching him his letters, huh? Dat childe.. he already got all de womenfolk eating outta de palm of his hand. Needs some sternness for learnin, he got a lot of years t'make up for dat he missed in de school system."

"Oiu. I get to it den. Tante still in a fit dat he handed her de salt when she wanted de sugar cuz he couldn't read de labels?"

"Yeah, dat she is. 'cepting dat she in an uproar at me an you for not teaching him sooner."

A chuckle from Jean-Luc, as Henri shook his head and made to go help teach his little brother how to read. Best he start thinking about Remy in that fashion, rather then as just a street urchin.

A brother. He'd never thought he'd have one. As he closed the door to Jean-Luc's study, Henri chuckled and whispered to himself. "Well Remy LeBeau, mebbe you not my blood brother, but if ya gonna be my brother, ya gonna have t'be worthy of de name LeBeau. Père didn't say it, but ya gonna learn a lot more den reading from me petite.."

In the study, Jean-Luc smiled as he stepped away from the door and hearing his sons whisper to himself. "T'ings gonna be alright after all."


	4. Sweet Sixteen

Seven years. Had it been so long? Seven years, since one Remy LeBeau's life had been completely and utterly turned around. Seven years ago, he'd been a street urchin. Today, he wore well fitting jeans, a Saints jersey, and a bandana around his forehead. It kept the spilling reddish-brown hair out of his face, and any sweat out of his eyes. He wasn't a dirty urchin without shoes, anymore. He'd gained most of his height – at least he hoped so. Already he towered over most at 6'2", and his build was enough to make most Olympic contestants in the triathlon jealous.

Seven years of learning. How to fight, how to talk, how to read and write, science, security, physics, geometry, foreign languages. Even now, he still had lessons every weekday for the bulk of the day, despite the fact he'd already gone beyond high school education levels – at least in most subjects.

While those seven years had seen him as one of the most sought after young men in the city of New Orleans, they'd been every bit as kind to his Angel. She stood tall for a woman, almost 5'8" with her heels on. That long blond hair was still in braids, and her eyes had deepened a touch more towards violet colors. The smile she favored up at him, while nipping at his neck, was that of a woman totally in love with a man.

And while it would surprise many of the women who tried to go after Remy LeBeau, who said he was untameable, that no one woman could ever hold his heart – he smiled the same way at Bella Donna Boudreaux. She'd held his heart solely for years, and while he flirted with other women, hers was the only skirt he'd ever truly chased. A fact she was quite aware; or she'd probably have used one of those knives secreted about her bodice on him long ago.

"Ya look beautifu, mon amour. Happy Sweet Sixteen." His lips brushed her reddened lips in a series of soft gentle kisses, while his arm tightened around her, holding her close. She wasn't dressed from her birthday party still. Instead just a tank top and jeans from when she'd snuck out of her fathers house. His trench coat rumpled underneath them as they twisted in their kisses and hold of eachother, before they finally broke their lips apart, both gasping for breath.

"An just what gift ya gonna give me, Remy LeBeau? I know ya been planning something for weeks now. After ya vanished outta town for a few days wit' Henri like dat, ain't nothing else ya coulda been doing but getting me a gift." He had to chuckle, she sounded so sure. A part of him always wondered if he'd gotten her something she'd like, but as the years went on that part had diminished. He'd come to know his femmes heart and soul, he had. Bel wasn't just his love, but his best friend. She was surprisingly happy to have things he'd stole for her. Surprising from an Assassin. Usually they scoffed at thieves, but Bel was different.

Maybe she wasn't still his Angel, but she'd become something more. She'd become all that was bright in his life. Especially after Etienne had died.. _Non, don't be thinking bout that. Tonight a night for celebrating Remy, and time ta show Bella what I got for her. Mebbe she actually wear it._

From the coat underneath them he reached into a pocket. "Close ya eyes, ma chérie." He instructed her, and waited until those purple eyes closed. He still chuckled a little. He could sense, just lightly, her feelings. Love. Excitement. Trust. He was used to people feeling excitement around him, but love and trust.. were a lot rarer, outside of the LeBeau household. Even in the Guild. Some never forgot he wasn't born into the Guild, adopted by Jean-Luc or not. Etienne's death hadn't set well with some either; despite the fact he was older then Remy when it'd happened. That was the way of it sometimes though.

He slipped the pendant upon it's sterling silver chain about her neck, and then stole a kiss. He'd intended to tell her to open her eyes, but that one kiss turned into another, and somehow his hand ended up on her rear. Tracing the fine contours of his chérie's bottom. She was every bit as fit as he was, and it'd done wonders for her sensuality. Like all things though, just as both of his hands had ended up on her curved rear, they finally broke for breath and she punched him in the arm lightly.

"Watch de hands, ya dirty t'ief." She murmured, before licking his lips, and leaning up some so she could get a look at the pendant he'd slipped onto her neck. Worked in silver, with a polished violet stone that offset her eyes set in more silver. It was worth a few grand, he knew. Well he should know, he'd spent a lot of time searching for her gift, and then longer convincing Henri to go with him to steal it.

"It's beautiful Remy. I like it." She didn't need to say the words. He could feel her approval shining off of her, as she pushed him into another kiss. It was a palpatable thing with Bella, when she was happy, the whole world knew it. She had a smile that could light a swamp at midnight for miles, and a frown that could kill a man. That smile sent his heart aflutter, it always had. Reinforcing it, was the waves of emotions he could dimly feel coming off of her. Love stronger then ever, and something more. A hint of decisiveness beating off her now? Why decisiveness..?

"I gotta present for ya too, Remy."

"Why ya get a present for me, Bel?"

"Cuz we never celebrate ya birthday. Sure, we celebrate de day ya got adopted by Jean-Luc, but dat ain' ya birthday. So ya getting your birthday gift tonight, on my birthday."

"Well.. ya didn' have to get me nothin, chere."

"Ya might change ya tune when ya figure out what I got for ya."

Remy tilted his head, eying the blond ontop of him, as she wriggled off him slowly. His eyes widened though, when instead of pulling a gift out, she began pulling her top off, then began undoing her pants. It was enough to make him blink a few times. They'd never ventured that far before. Kissing, petting, even second base, but they'd never gone beyond that. Was she..?

"Bel?" His voice cracked. His eyes enchanted by the woman revealing herself to him, with that beating smile on her face. High perky breasts, an incredibly toned body. Legs that never seemed to stop, and even shifting he could see muscles playing along her whole body. He felt his mouth going dry, his throat going dry. Fire began pounding through his veins.

"Dis my gift for ya, mon amour. Ya already got my heart an soul, it time we be sealed t'gether in body too." Her eyes grew mischievous then, as did her chuckling. "Now get naked, or I gonna cut ya clothes off wit' my knife, and ya can explain to ya Père why ya come home without clothes."

She'd do it, too, he knew. Yet he didn't hesitate, in shifting forward on his knees, to kiss her knee. Up her thigh, against her black panties, up her smooth stomach. He lingered at her breasts, teasing her through her bra as his fingers played along her back. The whole time slowly rising from the ground, until eventually his lips brushed hers again.

"T'ink.. I de luckiest t'ief in de world."

"Not t'ink, Remy. Ya know. I know dat I de luckiest Assassin dere is."

Words were cut off then, between kisses, and clothes being discarded. For the longest time, the only sound was of bodies pressing together, moans elicited from both of their throats, as they shared the one part of themselves they hadn't yet shared with each other. Yet such things were never simple with him or her. Even as the initial fires of passion died down, Bella played with his hair.

"Done already, Remy? I disappointed. Was figurin ya'd be good for more den once."

"Seems t'me dat you be done who's taking a break, chere. You de one on top. Guess I better fix dat, non?"

Competition. It would never let them stop until both had been sated well beyond when they probably should have stopped, leaving them both sore. Competition, and a need on both of their parts to make the night feel like it might never end. Even if they'd have to break apart and return to their fathers houses at some point.

Hours later, as they lay sweaty and entwined, Remy laughed softly.

"What ya laughing at LeBeau?"

"Nothin Bel. Just dat until t'night, I thought dat ya lips was de most perfect t'ing in de world."

"Ya sayin dat dey still ain't?" A dangerous shift in her lilting voice.

"Non. Non. What I mean t'say dat everything about ya Bel. Everything. Ya lips, ya breasts, ya nipples, ya.." Her cheeks reddening horribly, and he allowed himself to be silent.

"Glad dat ya approve, Rems. But ya don't gotta charm me or start talkin like a snake charmer. I love ya. Ya love me. We both got amazing bodies." She winked at him.

"Bel?"

"Oui?"

"Ya believe in soul mates?"

"Not until de day I met ya, Remy. But since I was nine, I known dat ya was mine."

"I called ya an Angel dat first day... Was wrong."

"oh?"

"Ya a goddess."

"Got dat right. You ain't gona sweet talk me into goin down on ya again though."

"Wasn't trying."

She pinned him with her eyes then.

"Wasn't, Bel. Was trying to talk ya into one more time before we gotta go though.."

"Ya are incorrigible Remy. Gonna be sore walkin as it is, an ya damn near got us both worn raw." She was smirking though, and shifting over him once more already. Grinding against him, while biting hard on his jaw.

"What's a lil pain, for dat kinda pleasure though?" They were both laughing, even as they fell into their already familiar rhythms that would lead them both to release once more.


	5. Wedding,Tears, and Exile

Blood. There was still blood on his hands. Still a heavy sense of shock coursing through the 18 year old Remy LeBeau. Blood. He'd had blood on his hands before, but never from someone he had killed. Thieves didn't kill. Assassins killed. Yet that was not the way it had played out.

The chair was uncomfortable, in his fathers home. He sat in his room, in the chair he'd always hated to sit in. Still in his tux, and still with the heavy golden band on his finger. It was covered in blood too. Why was there so much blood? _Merde! Why did dat man have t'be such a fool!? He ruined everything. Mebbe I de one dat ruined everything. So much for my wedding day..._

"Son."

The voice jerked him out of his shock and thoughts, as he stared at his adopted Father. "Père?"

He hated how his own voice cracked. He could feel the pain rolling off Jean-Luc in waves, but he didn't need to be able to feel other peoples emotions to know what the Patriarch was feeling was bad. His face was somber, and he looked more pained then Remy had ever seen in his adopted father.

"Take de ring off, Remy. Maurius, he won't have ya as his step son. De marriage stand though, but.. Remy. I love ya like my own blood, ya know dat. I raised ya de best I could, given ya every bit of trainin I could. Ya better den I was at ya age. Hell petite, ya de only one in de guild t'ever earn de rank of Master of de Craft who was less den 40 years old."

Remy's heart began to break. They were going to take his Bella away from him. Would she even still want him, with her brothers blood on his hands? If only that petty jealous fool hadn't challenged him to a duel. To the death... of all the moronic.. Remy blinked away tears, and watched his father. Hearing the old mans voice almost break like his was was yet another blow against the young Thief.

"What ya sayin, Père? Dey ain' gonna let me see Bel no more? De peace? What gonna happen?"

The look on his fathers face broke his heart even more. It was worse then what he asked, he could tell that already. It was like his Fathers own pain and emotions were assaulting, stock piling atop of his own. Never before had he experienced emotions so acute, except when he and Bella made love.

"Ya Exiled, Son. De peace, it stand, just like ya marriage stand. Ya gonna have to leave New Orleans Remy, an ya can't come back. On pain a death from de Assassins. An don't you try an get Bella to go wit' you, dat would start a war." Jean-Luc wiped a tear from his cheek as he spoke those words, he sounded as if he was pronouncing his own death. As if some of himself died, by having to exile his son.

"But.. but.."

A hand on his shoulder, a strong hand that squeezed his shoulder hard. "It was de best I could do, Remy. We tried t'talk wit' de Assassins, t'get dem to see dat it was Julien's fault. Dey wouldn't see it, couldn't see it. Ya gonna have to go son. Mebbe.. mebbe in a year or two, when t'ings calmed down.. Tante, she get messages to ya from Bella. She still love ya son, she de only one of 'em who was on ya side for dis. Only reason dey didn't demand ya head too I t'ink. Dey afraid of taking her husband as well as her brother away from her."

"What'm I gonna do?"

"You gonna do what you gotta do, Remy. Ya a LeBeau. Dis don't change dat. Whatever else happens, good or bad son, when all else fails, you a t'ief. Remember dat. Now, you get ya self packed. Henri be up here in a bit to help ya. Den we gonna have a family dinner one last time, an we all go together up to Tante's cabin near Akers. Ya stay wit' her for a bit, an well.."

Jean-Luc sighed, then composed himself.

"You a man, Remy. You face dis on your feet. You stronger den dis. You stronger den ya ever know. Ya make a name for yaself son. Ya already got de skills, ya make dat name for yaself. Each tally in ya reputation be a laugh in de face of de Assassins, a bit a mud in dere faces for daring to not accept ya."

"Poppa?"

"Yeah Remy?"

"I don't care bout dat. I just wanna hold Bella, and be wit' my family.."

"I know dat son, but dis ain't something ya got a choice in an I won't let ya throw ya life away by staing in New Orleans. It's time for ya to leave de nest Remy, an like dem Angels ya used to fawn over as a pup, ya gonna soar high. Higher den de likes anyone in de Guilds ever soared before. Ya understand me son?"

"Oi, Père. I do. But I don't like it. Ya.. ya tell Bella dat I love her, yeah? Dat I sorry. Dat I love her more den life itself, yeah?"

"I tell her, Remy. Get y'self packed. Was gonna be ya wedding present, but.. I got ya some new body armor, an a new bo-staff. Adamantium."

Remy's eyes bulged, at that last. That had to have cost a fortune. He didn't have time to question Jean-Luc though, as his Father siddled out of the room before he broke down again.

* * *

Two months later, Remy LeBeau stared at the cigarette as it burned and threw smoke up into the air. Two months, he'd spent with Tante. He'd gotten two letters from Bella the whole time. She still loved him. Despite that they couldn't be together now. It was eating him up inside, and his dreams were haunted by the snearing face of Julien. Or worse, by his face as death clouded over it. The worst though, the worst was the dreams of Bella. Not even nightmares, but almost memories of all their times together. Laughter, intimacy, love. It haunted him and hung heavy on his soul.

"Chil'e, what I tell ya bout smoking in my cabin?"

"Sorry Tante, but.. what it matter? Dis all pointless."

There was the sullen side of Remy that it broke her heart to see. As a child he'd always been energetic, literally bouncing off walls. Always up to some trouble, and always charming nearly every single person he met. Now, he was just a shadow of his former self. A fraction. It was torture to see it in the young man she'd raised as her son every bit as much as Jean-Luc had raised him.

"No more of dis, Remy. Ya gotta move on. Ya can't just dwell on dis for de rest of ya life, and not do anyt'ing."

"Dat easy t'say Tante. What de point? What de point at all!?" He shouted the last, then sighed. "Merde. Désolé."

He dropped back into sitting, and wrapped a finger around the silver chain he wore now. The one his wedding ring rested on. Bella wore hers the same way, her letters indicated. Her father wouldn't let her wear it on her finger, he was still too upset, Bella said.

Was he ever going to see his wife again?

"I said ya gotta move on, Remy. Quit staring at dat ring."

"An jus' how I supposed to move on Tante? Where I got to go?"

"I got ya plane tickets here, an Jean-Luc, he wired 10 grand into ya account dis morning. We sending you to Paris, Remy. You gotta get out of de country, get out of dis funk. You can't do dat here. Other cities, other places, other people. You gotta live again, petite."

"Ya t'ink jus' sending me off gonna be de answer?"

"Non. But it help. Only t'ing dat gonna be de answer is time, Remy. Time and growing. Ya go to Paris, ya brother meet ya there. Set you up with some contacts, get workin again."

"When de plane leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"A'right. I be on it, but... Tante?"

"What is it?" She asked with concern that made him feel a lout for how he'd been acting.

"Ya t'ink I ever get to be wit' Bella again?"

Tante sighed, at the look in his eyes. He was looking for reassurance, a reason to hang onto the assassin. To hang onto his love. Maybe to hang onto his life.

"Dunno petite. Ya two love each other, den anyt'ing be possible. But it ain't gonna be easy, Remy. It gonna take time, an I talkin years, not months, for dese kinds of wounds ta heal."

"T'ought so, t'anks for being honest." He sighed, and went back to blowing smoke rings. But at least he wasn't playing with that wedding band anymore. Now he looked more, at least a little, like the child she'd taught to read. Those devils eyes smouldered and flashed occasionally, and whatever he was planning... one thing Tante knew about Remy, it was that anything he planned ended up as trouble for someone.

Then she turned back to preparing their dinner.


	6. The City of Love

Paris. The City of Love. What a joke of a place to send him to try and get over everything that had happened. It was enough that he was rolling his eyes as he walked through the airport terminal, before hugging his brother to him.

"Bonjour Henri."

"Remy."

"What's de good word den?"

"Well, dunno dat dere much good word mon petit frère."

"Dat ain't much of a surprise. So Tante said dat dere was some work lined up for me in dis city?"

"Jumpin straight to de chase already, eh Rem?"

Remy stopped matching strides with his brother, to frown at him.

"Henri, it ain't like I got much else left ta me but work. An I don't wanna talk about it. Bella, de wedding, all of dat, forbidden subject for now, eh?"

"D'accord. We do it ya way, Rem." Henri just nodded and agreed with his little brother. He didn't know what else to do. He wouldn't know what to do if something came between him and Mercy, and Remy had just about everything that could be between him and his wife between them now.

"Yeah, we got some work lined up for ya. Dere a femme here in Paris, she got quite a few t'ings she be wanting ya to retrieve from ot'ers for her. Rem.. don't mess dis one up, eh? She a powerful femme. One dat ya don't wanna get on de wrong side of. Ya get on de wrong side of dis one mon ami, an Poppa an I mebbe not even be able ta intervene."

"I get de message Henri, don't fuck de woman over. Didn't plan on it. Ya know I always honor my contracts. Ain't got much else to be standing on but my word anymore, eh?" A bitter laugh escaped him, in contrast to Henri's more heart felt laugh.

"Remy, ya one of de most honest t'ieves I know. Dunno how ya gonna make it on ya own wit' dat honesty in tact."

"I find a way. Or I lose it. But if all I got left be my word, den I gonna be keeping it."

"If ya say so, Rem. De limo dere, it be taking ya to de filles' place. She provide ya quarters, spending money, whatever ya need. Do dis right, eh brother? It open doors for ya in places ya might not expect."

Remy just shrugged, pulled his duster closer around him, patted Henri's shoulder then strode out of the airport, waving behind him. Oblivious to the people who stared at him. Not because of his eyes, those were hidden behind shades. Because Remy LeBeau was a creature rarely seen even by Parisians. A darkly seductive creature, who even in turmoil drew others to him, men and women.

Perhaps the reason he stepped doubley faster into the waiting car, as he began to feel the lust rising from eyes upon him.

* * *

The car ride was boring. Oh so boring. He played solitaire with his second favorite pack of playing cards. The ones Jean-Luc had given him when he turned 17. He'd conned many a people out of thousands of dollars in poker games with those cards, in the very first tournament he ever played in. Easier days, those. When sneaking into a tournament had just been a diversion, an enjoyment, never a real care about the money.

Maybe soon, he might be reduced to using cards as a real source of income. Maybe.

The ride was longer then he expected, if only because it was actually on the outskirts of Paris. A large house, a very large house. Whoever his new benefactor was, she was loaded. Already he was stilling his hand, fighting down the urge to lift anything of hers. That be bad business to be getting into when he hadn't even worked for her yet.

The driver opened the door, told him his luggage would be taken care of. Remy just shrugged, and headed for the front door. A servant was already waiting there, and bowed to him. "Mr LeBeau, please follow me. Madam Candra is waiting for you."

First he'd heard of her name. He just nodded. "Den take me t'Candra?" Not quite a request, as he fell in behind the man. His hands going into his pockets, as he observed the rich pieces of artwork lining the walls, the vases, even the rugs and wall hangings. Each piece was worth at least ten grand individually. Money. Lots of money, and distinct taste in what she had displayed. A definite discerning eye for what she liked, an eye that Remy found himself agreeing with.

Course, the femme was probably going to be forty or fifty years his senior and all grey hair and wrinkle.s It wasn't often that someone who had ties to the guild was a drop dead looker.

"Madam Candra awaits you, sir." The servant accorded him respect, more then he was expecting for just being a hired thief. Weird. A shrug, and he swept into the the study – and stopped dead in his tracks about five steps in.

THIS was Candra? Almost as tall as him at 6'1" he'd guess. Long free hanging blond hair. Sparkling blue eyes. Lips so red they looked like rubies. A very feminine body, with curves in all of the right places. He'd looked at many women, flirted with many women, but always he'd known he'd never find a woman more beautiful then Belladonna. He was just proven wrong. She couldn't have been more then perhaps 7 or 8 years older then he was, maybe as much as 12, no more.

Smouldering eyes peered at the woman behind his shades. That deep red dress she wore didn't hide a damn thing either, instead it accenuated every nuance of her form. Then he realized she was laughing, and he sketched a bow to her.

"Lady Candra, I presume?" His voice felt thick.

"Indeed. And you are Remy LeBeau, the Prince of Thieves. Come, join me." She patted the seat next to her on the couch, and Remy swallowed. It was a rare woman who could put him off his game, and she was managing it already. With trepidation, he crossed the room to sit down next to her, to find her handing him a glass of wine; which he was thankful for. His throat felt dry.

"I see m'reputation proceeds me. But den, seein as ya hired me, hope ya know dat much bout me at de very least." To his surprise, she was laughing again. It was a pleasant sound, and showed even white teeth, as she set her hand on his arm over the dusters sleeve.

"Oh, you could say that Remy. I know all about you. You're a very fascinating young man." Accompanying those words, he almost expected to find her hand wandering, touching him. Instead, she just left it there. Oddly, he felt disappointed at that too. It was then he also realized something else interesting. With most people, he could feel their emotions without even trying. With Candra, he couldn't. He had to actually think about it to even get a glimmer of what she was feeling.

_Oh boy. Dis gonna be real interestin. What Henri send me into? Dey don't t'ink I forget about Bella just cuz dis femme tres belle? Nah, Henri not like dat. Dere most be more to dis den just dat. Lord, why I getting regretful dat dis might be 'just' business..._

He didn't have long in his thoughts.

"I won't bore you too much tonight, Remy. However, there is a job I need you to do tonight already. I know it's short notice, and you're likely jet lagged, but it has to be done tonight. The item I require is about to be moved to somewhere that would be far harder to get to it at, so it has to be tonight."

"D'accord. I get whatever ya want." Remy offered her with that cocky grin.

"Oh. I'm counting on it, Remy."

* * *

Eight months. He'd been in the service of Candra for eight months now. Somehow, a large portion of those days ranked every bit as high as some of the best he'd ever had in New Orleans. Some of the lowest of those days matched the lows of back home too.

Like the day after he'd first shared Candra's bed, he'd been with her for two months at that point. He still wasn't sure how it ended up that way, just that they had ended up in bed. That night had been a lesson in sensuality to the cajun, a lesson in just how inexperienced he and Belladonna had been in their times together. Candra represented experience, experience she seemed to absolutely love showering upon him.

Much to his surprise, his job had him functioning almost as if he were her boyfriend, and not just a servant/lover combo. That felt odd to him, but he wasn't sure why. She took him to the theater, to opera, to art galleries, even to underground fighting rings on occasion. So many good times.

Contrasted by the times that were not so good. The night after they first slept together, he'd spent crying. He had broken his vows to Belladonna. He loved her, but.. he might not see her for years yet, and he was only flesh and blood – and Candra was a very insistent woman. Or the nights they went to fights. He found it barbaric, but Candra seemed to enjoy watching men beat eachother senseless. The absolute worst though, was when she had him steal from a Church.

That was one of his major violations of ethics, but.. she – and history agreed with her – said that the cross she wanted stolen was originally stolen from others. If it weren't for the fact history agreed with her, he'd have refused.

* * *

Candra lay nude on the bed, while Remy slowly pulled his trench coat on over his body armor. Those blue eyes watching, as if enjoying the show as he'd went from nude to into his armor and coat.

"Remy." It wasn't a question, it was a demand of his attention. His gaze shifted back to her, to see her flaunting her body, her fingers trailing enticingly. Invitingly.

"Yea chere?" Those smouldering eyes watched her. Even after a year in working with her, her body still left his throat somewhat dry.

"You don't have to go."

"Course I do, chere. Ya want de book don'tcha? Dat means I go get it for ya. De bed, it still be here when I get back non?" A wink and a grin on his part.

"I meant, Remy, you don't have to do this anymore. Working for me. Become my partner. Stay with me. I love you." The weirdest part was, he was pretty sure she meant it. Loving him. Even if most of her actions didn't show it. One thing he'd learned was Candra was a bit.. unique.

"What ya mean, partner?"

"Exactly what the word means, Remy. You're already my lover. I want more. I want you, here, by my side. Always."

"Chere... y'know I'm married.."

"Ahh, right. To that little girl-child Belladonna. You don't need to worry about her, Remy. I could have your marriage annulled in an hour, and the peace between your Guilds cemented stronger then ever."

He blinked, tilted his head. An eyebrow arched in question that his voice couldn't come through with. Was she really that well connected? To have that kind of influence on the guilds? Not for the first time, Remy wondered just who Candra really was. There were always hints about her that she was far far more then just a rich business woman with criminal desires.

"Yes, I could do it. Will you stay, Remy? Be my partner? My lover? My husband?" She batted those long lashes at him, and ran a hand across her smooth stomach. A stomach that still showed bite marks from their earlier adventures, as well as quite a few other parts of her body. All of which she seemed to be touching, as if wanting those marks to remain.

While Remy felt ice forming in the pit of his stomach. Stay with her? MARRY her? He loved Bella still. Every night he lashed himself in his own thoughts over failing Bella this way, being in another womans bed. He hated himself for it. Worse, he knew he didn't even love Candra. Like her? Sure? Enjoy time with her? Yeah. Enjoy her bed? Beyond a doubt. Fond of her? Definitely. But no, he didn't love her..

"Chere..."

He didn't get any further. Her face contorted, and Remy just realized the grievious error he'd made. A great many of his jobs had been to steal from people who had slighted her. She never took losing, or any form of rejection well... and he'd just been about to deliver the ultimate form of rejection to her. That she'd ready just in his tone.

But what came next wasn't what he expected. She didn't launch herself at him, didn't go for a gun, or a knife, or anything physical. Instead a mirror ripped itself off a wall and hurled at him, the shock so much that he barely even dodged the mirror.

"No!? You reject me for some misbegotten love of a girl-child? Then you will be on your knees **begging** me to accept you as my own, by the time we are done!" Then she did hurl herself out of the bed, clothes seeming to assemble on her even as she moved. Worse, he felt himself flung against a wall by forces he couldn't see, impacting the wall hard.

"Chere! Stop dis! Candra.. ya know ya don't wanna do dis. Dis time I spent wit' ya, being wit' you, been some of de happiest days of my life. Marriage ain't somet'in dat I'm ready for yet though."

There was no sign on if she was listening to him or not, because three knives floated out of her top dresser and floated over her shoulder.

Her grin was cruel, and it fit, in the odd red body armor she wore over her form. Vaguely reminiscent of Assassin styles, but somehow more. Remy realized he was staring death in the eye, as he struggled helplessly against the wall.

"I will hear you beg me to be allowed just to keep serving me. Then you will beg to be allowed the privilege of being mine, Remy... and you will be very, very convincing. Or you will not survive the night."

"Candra.."

"You're not begging yet." Those knives began to spin over her shoulder, and one flung across the room to stab the blade 3" deep into the solid wood. He gulped.

_Oh shit. Tante always said dis heartbreaker face of mine was gonna get me in trouble. Shit, what kinda psycho did Henri send me t'work for anyway? Merde, dis ain't de way it supposed t'end._

...To be continued.


	7. Falling Down

Please leave reviews. I'd like to know if people are reading, and if it's worth reading. Suggestions are always welcome. I'm aware my writing style in the early chapters has been somewhat sparse, because there's an awful lot of 'Pre-Xmen' history to get through for Gambit.

_Calm down, LeBeau. I been in worse situations den dis. Femme claim ta love me. Just jealous and hurt from rejection. Just gotta sooth de rage, distract her... den high tail it de hell out of here and not look back. Damn femme crazy as a loon._

Drawing a breath, Remy focused those smouldering eyes upon her. Unaware of the rhythmic pulses of glowing reddish energy his eyes practically shimmered with. Candra didn't even notice it herself, she was caught up in pleasant ideas of torturing him, or how to make him love her, apparently.

"Chere. Chere! Look at me, Candra. Dis ain' bout Bella. I love ya Candra." He willed his voice to be sincere, for her to believe him if she'd ever believed anything he said. He was fairly sure it was the words she needed to, wanted to, hear.

The knives stopped spinning, at the very least, and some of the rage faded into a smirk. The forces holding him to the wall began to lessen, setting him down gently back to his own two feet.

"Then why won't you stay with me, Remy?" That anger was still there, he could feel it now. He was trying to feel what she felt, he needed to know, needed that upper hand with her.

"It ain't de stayin chere. It de marriage part. Sore subject, dat one. Ya want me t'be ya partner? Ya lover? Ya boyfriend? D'accord. I be dose t'ings, chere. But marriage, we let dat one wait for a while yet?" He offered a hopeful smile, as he strode across the room to stroke her cheek with his finger tips. Exhaling as he leaned forward to brush lips with hers.

"You... very well. I can be patient, when it's worth it. You, Remy, are very worth it." Her voice was nearly a purr, as if moments ago she hadn't been somehow holding him to a wall with something he couldn't even see, about to throw knives into his body.

_Oh yeah. Dis bitch psycho._

"Glad we agree on dat.. now. Since ya don't want me going for dat book tonight.." He let his eyes range across that tight sinuous body armor, let passion burn in his eyes. He could feel her starting to melt, and then she was pressed against him. Almost as if his gaze alone was searing her into pleasure.

"I have **much** better uses to put you to then some dusty old book I don't even care about.." She whispered into his ear, hands strongly holding his own, as their clothes began to be stripped away by those invisible forces...

* * *

Hours later, Remy stared at her sleeping form on the bed. He'd been amazed he'd even been able to perform, but then, that's what massive amounts of foreplay were for. Time for him to calm down, and exposure to a woman with a body like Candra's... sooner or later the physical took over, despite the fear. She was asleep, he knew. Sound asleep.

After a session like they'd just shared, he knew she was prone to sleeping soundly. He used to watch television while she slept sometimes, and it never woke her up. He had about 7 hours, if he gauged things right. As he pushed the sheets up over her nude form, and turned to step away, Remy sighed. Shaking his head, cursing himself for a damned fool, he leaned down and left a trail of kisses on her sleeping lips.

"Ah chere, it good to know dat someone could love me much as you seem ta." Fool. He turned, and finished gathering his things. The whole while realizing he had come to care for her. Not love, not really, but how could you not to some extent love someone who loved you? It consumed her, as if he'd addicted her. And there were memories, happy memories.

But he didn't dare be there when she woke up. He couldn't be. Not seeing what her temper could do, knowing that she was a lunatic. But he did on some level love her. Not the deep consuming bond he felt with Belladonna, but a love that was no less real because it wasn't in the same league. Fool thing was, Remy knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt if anyone ever threatened her... he'd feel compelled to protect her.

_Stupid. Real stupid, me. De femme got powers a some kind, big ones. Like she ever gonna need my protection. Still.. _

The night was welcoming, especially once he hot-wired her Benz, tossed his kit into the trunk, and floored it for the airport. At least 6 more hours.. he had to find a flight out of France before then. Anything less then an international flight he'd have her tracking him down within hours.

And there was no doubt at all that she -would- be tracking him.

That was how three hours later, he'd found himself exiting a jets bathroom on his flight from Amsterdamn to the States. His ticket would take him to Chicago. Where he'd get a flight to Seattle. No one would expect him to go there. Exiting the bathroom minutes after him was the stewardess who'd just provided some excellent stress relief.

_Merde. I go from cheating on Bella wit' a psycho to sleeping wit' stewardesses now? Not like it matters anymore. Ya break de vows once, and dey broken. So much for Till death do us part. Den again, it never said who's death. Guess it was Julien's, an my fool head just didn't realize it._

Remy stewed in silence, looking out the window. It just made him feel worse, because he still loved Belladonna. The golden band hanging on a chain about his neck seemed to burn against his skin.

* * *

Two weeks later.

_Oy. Dis ain't so good. Slipped past de alarms wit'out fail. Lifted de bracelet. An just as I about to leave what happens?_

Not that anything had actually happened yet, but he was stalking across the galleries floor. Already there was the flash light of the on duty guard sweeping towards the room he was stalking across towards his exit point. Not good. The guard had broken his regular patrol cycle. Why?

_Fat ass probably jus' wants a soda and de vending machines are dis way. Just my luck. Gonna get pinned cuz a guy got a caffeine addiction._

For all his thoughts of being caught, he was across the room and already climbing up it nimbly to the window that would provide his exit. Lights swept the room, regular not alert.

_Oh yeah. Dis why I de Prince of t'ieves. Even a lil caffeine ca---_

"STOP! PUT UP YOUR HANDS!"

_Aw shit_.

The light hit him even as the words did. Even with his shades, the light hurt his eyes bad in this darkness he'd become accustomed to. What he had not been expecting though, was the ring of gunfire even as he leapt out of the window. Worse, was the searing pain. He'd never been shot before.

_Oh lord, don't let dis be de end. Remy LeBeau shot by a rent a cop? I never live down de shame if dat's how my note gets punched out. Shit dat hurts._

Worse, was even as he toppled out the window, he couldn't get ahold of the his hand holds to climb down, he pitched over the 15 foot fall to the ground, landing with an impact against a trash can. Oddly however, the impact didn't really seem to hurt at all. If anything, as he slammed against it, he felt empowered. Felt surges of energy whirling through him.

Why was the alley glowing pink? ... that was coming from his eyes, underneath the glasses, he realized. Aw shit. Did Candra do something? Work some voodoo on him from afar? _Dat be just my luck_.

Then he realized, the bullet wound really didn't hurt as much as he thought it should. It hurt less then when he'd been cut in his fencing lessons back when he'd been learning how to fight. _Wait, why de glow in de alley getting even brighter.. What dat sizzling sound?_

Looking down as he pushed off the garbage can, he realized it was the trash can that was now glowing fuscia, not him. The glow had subsided from him. That sizzling sounded bad though, and his shoulder hurt like hell. Breaking into a dead run, he needed to get out of here before police arrived.

He made it a block, but even stumbling and running that far, he was still close enough to hear the explosion. One that he somehow knew was the trash can that'd been glowing.

_Oh shit. What's happenin to me?_

* * *

"Well.. it been two days now. Guess it can't be dat bad." Remy mumbled to himself, as he climbed off the bed in the cheap motel room he'd been renting. The dingy kind of motel, where they didn't ask for questions or photo id. They didn't want to know, and they didn't ask questions.

Luckily he'd found one of the other occupants of the place had been a soldier of fortune, or a mercenary, who knew? The important part was he'd been good enough at field medic training to doctor his wound up. More importantly, two hundred bucks made sure the man would keep quiet about such doctoring.

Nothing had been in the news...beyond a gas explosion. No one even knew anything had been stolen. Which the sinking feeling in Remy's gut said meant the guard had been killed in the explosion. Lucky for him, but the fact yet another death was on his mind weighted him down. It hurt.

He couldn't sit still though. He felt too energetic. And worse, every pace or step made him feel more ready to bounce off walls. Pulling his duster back on, he slipped out of the room, to prowl. How long he walked, his mind wandering, he wasn't sure. He knew it was a while, he also knew he couldn't even recall the security guards face. It was a horrible thing to have killed someone and not even recall their face. It made him feel like a monster.

In the journey of prowling, he found himself outside of a theater. Glancing up at the movies playing, he just shrugged. Popcorn. That was good for the mind, right? Maybe. He just handed over a twenty, and said for the ticket girl to give him a ticket to whatever she recommended, and keep the change. She had a nice smile, and he couldn't help but notice the overly abundant chest tightly constrained by the red sweater.

A thought still lurking in his mind, as he got his pop corn, a coke and wandered around until he found the theater. Previews hadn't started yet, but it was a mostly packed house. _Must be a good flick. Mebbe it cheer me up._

Even as he settled into the seat though, his cell phone rang.

"Remy?" It was Henri.

"Oiu Henri, what going on? Ya sound awful. Ya hear bout my lil problem den?" _Dunno how ya would. Less ya got people spying on me._

"You got problems too? What's going on Remy? What happened? Where are you?"

_Must be pretty bad if he dis worried. He didn't hear about my little incident yet den. Dat's good. Still don't understand dat anyway._

"Jus' almost bungled a job. Got shot, but healing up good. Why?"

"Remy..." Long drawn out silence.

"Spit it out Henri."

"Remy.. Belladonna be dead. Dey found her two hours ago, crucified in de Assassins private Church.. Remy. It was wit' her own knives it was done."

"WHAT!? Bella can't be dead!?"

He realized a few things then. First, he was shouting. Second, the cell had been crushed in his hand. Third, he was kicking and pounding on the theater sets like a mad man in a rage. Worse though, was that sense of energy that'd been building all day. So slight while he'd been walking around, seemed to gain exponentially with each impact of his legs or feet against a seat. And people were running and screaming for the exits.

That was when he realized seats, the floor, even everything he was looking at, was beginning to glow fuscia. Worst of all, was when he realized that even applied to some of the **people** his gaze fell across. As their skin started to burn, their hair, and then they started to glow.

"_Oh Merde. God forgive me for dis.."_

He wasn't sure if forgiveness came or not. All he was sure, positively sure that came, was an explosion, multiple explosions as a matter of fact, and a loss of consciousness as black enveloped him.

* * *

When the blackness began to recede, he was aware of things. Rain. It was raining. Destruction surrounded him. Sirens were in the distance. The carnage.. he vomited on the littered ground next to him.

It was after he vomited, he finally heard the words. Heard the words from the man standing near his feat. "Mr. LeBeau. You look worse for the wear. To be expected, when you kinetically charge an entire building around you though." His tone was.. disapproving.

Did he know the pale skinned man who spoke with an English accent? He didn't think so. But then, who was Mr LeBeau? Was that him? It seemed a familiar name. Perhaps it was his.

"Are you able to hear me? The explosions did not damage your hearing?"

"Non. I hear you just fine. Do I know you?"

Laughter. It didn't have any warmth at all in it, and sent a chill down his spine.

"Hardly, Mr LeBeau. But I know you. This destruction is a result of your uncontrolled power. The police and emergency service teams will be arriving shortly. I rather imagine you do not want to be here when they arrive. It could prove hazardous to your already precarious health."

It would almost sound friendly advice. If not for the fact it was being stated like calm scientific fact, and in no way friendly at all.

"Yeah, no shit. Not sure I can walk though. Sides, look at dis! Mebbe dey should get me.. all dose people.."

"It's not your fault. Come with me, and I can teach you to control your powers. I will allow you to make amends for the destruction you have caused today."

_Could there be amends, after this? I pretty sure I saw kids in dat audience. Merde.. kids.. Bella.. oh Bella. I failed de vows, an I failed ta protect ya. Julien was right about me. But I don't wanna die Bella. Not yet. I gotta make amends before I join ya._

Guilds training full at work,there. Thieves and Assassins, after every job they performed cleansing prayers to keep them sanctified. To keep the Pearly Gates open to them when their time came, despite the sins they worked while alive. That was how it was supposed to work anyway. Bella belonged in heaven. Even if one Remy LeBeau belonged in hell now, for sure..

"What ya name? Ain't goin no where wit' a guy I don't even know de name of."

"You could hardly stop me from taking you with me, even if you wanted to LeBeau. However, I have no intention of doing so. I am Dr. Nathaniel Essex. Now, will you come with me?"

"Oui." It was all Remy could force himself to croak out, because the dizziness hit him back into the darkness as soon as he'd said those words. Darkness.. and dreams of Candra coming after him. Dreams of the mob of people who'd been in the theater hunting him down. Worse, dreams of Bella, Jean-Luc, and Henri coming after him because of what he'd done.

Because of the evil he'd become. Thieves didn't murder. That was the realm of the assassins. Yet Remy LeBeau, the Prince of Thieves, had a kill count higher then even most elder assassins now.

God forgive him. _God forgive me. Please, let me make amends. Please let dis man, dis Doctor, be a man of de fold. I need dat resolution. Please._


	8. Training and Recruitment

The darkness receded slowly. When it did, Remy wanted to curse. No sunglasses, and the rooms lights felt bright against his lately unused eyes. The walls didn't help. White. White walls, white floor, white ceiling. There was really nothing to even look at in the room. The only color at all was the hospital style bed he was resting on.

_Well, look like dis Essex live up to his word so far. Ain't dead. Huh. Body feels like it almost completely healed. Wonder how long I been out for.._

He almost murmured in awe, as he lifted his arm and shifted in the bed. He felt like a young bull once again. Oh, there were some aches or pains, but nothing like the pain he'd felt after the explosion. A little weaker, maybe, but a lot more sound then he had any right to be after what had happened.

The door made a whistling sound as it opened, and the cold clacking of shoes upon the floor, the sense of movement, caught his attention immediately. Shifting his eyes, to behold the pale English Doctor once again.

"You're awake. Good. You've been healing faster then I expected, you show amazing progress." A faint smile crossed his near bloodless lips. Remy found it slightly disquieting.

"Yea, well. Always did get well pretty quick. How long was I out? Couldn'ta been dat long, don't see no IV's or nothin.." Nor could he feel any puncture marks from where they would have gone into his skin. He was fairly sure he hadn't been out that long, a day or two perhaps? This man must be a miracle worker.

"You've been in an almost coma like sleep for almost a month while your wounds were tended. You were removed from IV's about five hours ago. When your brain activity began registering more then just dreams." A wave of his hand, as if it wasn't important, as if he was getting ready to launch into another subject.

Remy just frowned. _Merde. A month? Don't feel like I been in a bed for a month. I was pretty busted up though, so guess dat makes sense. De shoulder fully healed from dat bullet too. Wonder how he got me to heal up so completely so fast. Musta been somet'ing dat he did. Sure, dat wound was healin pretty quick on it's own, but..._

"A month? An what now, dat I got a bill a full health? I got one, yea?" A touch of suspicion touching his tones.

Essex just offered a faint smile. "A month. 27 days to be precise. Yes, you have a full bill of health. I must say, your mutation is quite impressive Mr. LeBeau."

Uncomprehending devils eyes looked at him. "Mutation? Ya mean dese devils eyes? Don't see not'ing impressive bout dem mon ami."

Essex smiled wider. It looked like he didn't do it often, it wasn't charming at all. _Dis man really need ta visit charm school. He lacking in de social graces like woah. Pro'lly never gets no women either. Explains why he busy picking up injured people from crime scenes._

"Hardly, Mr. LeBeau. You're still blinking at the lights in the room, as if they were bright. If you look, really look, you will notice that the lights are currently on the dimmest setting they will go. I would wager you could see nearly perfectly in almost pitch darkness. However, that is not the mutation I am referencing. You are aware of what a mutant is, yes?"

"Uhh.. people wit' a sixth finger, or eyes like dese?" Remy was frowning at the man. What the hell was he talking about?

"Yes and no. Mutants, the next stage in evolution my young friend. People born with a leap in evolution, a gene called the X-Factor. That allows for things beyond human. Your incident with the explosions are part of your mutation. Judging from your brain activity levels when others are near you, you are also an empath. Remarkable as that is, there is far far more to you, Remy LeBeau."

"Dat so?" It was a quiet response, as those smouldering eyes observed the Doctor. He sounded pretty excited about his 'mutations' and Remy wasn't sure that was such a good thing; less it helped him control them.

"That is so. You are a massively powered controller of Kinetic Energy, LeBeau. Every movement you make, every touch of your body against something, or something against your body, results in you absorbing kinetic energy. Leaching the power of motion itself from the world around you. How your body uses that energy is simply astounding. Faster healing, superhuman agility, the explosions you've demonstrated. You have a highly refined spatial awareness, do you not?"

"Spatial awareness? Ya mean, sensing t'ings round me? Yeah.. always seem to know what's around me, when things moving. Always thought dat was true for most t'ieves."

A humorless chuckle. "Oh, I'm sure most of them wish they had your spatial awareness Mr. LeBeau. Yours transcends human capability, bridges into the Superhuman. You do not seem to grasp the magnificience of what you do. You can change kinetic energy, LeBeau. You can even charge potential energy into kinetic, in the odd process you demonstrated at the theater. Turning things into bombs."

"How I make it stop?" Nothing but pain had come from those explosive powers. Death. Worse, he remembered his panic sharply, just looking at things and watching them begin to charge up. Nothing could make the memories of seeing those people running from him begin to charge and burn when his powers took a hold of them too.

"Stop them? Oh, you can't LeBeau. You're simply too powerful for any of that kind of technique to work on you. However, I have devised a method to give you control of your powers. Your powers became awakened in reaction to stress, at their full power. You lack the control to handle this much power, but I have devised an operation that would lower your powers to controllable levels."

"Lower dem? Dat's all ya can do for me? I gonna be stuck wit' dese t'ings?" He made it sound like a curse.

Essex shook his head. "It is not a curse, young man. But a gift. You could do amazing things, amazing things indeed, with those abilities. Controllable, you could use them for whatever cause you wish – even atonement for your sins."

Remy just stared at the man, frowning. What decided him was when the pillow beneath his head began to sizzle and glow, and he quickly hurled it across the room, watching as it exploded searing the previously white walls with black char, ripping into the layers of that durable material. Metal? Metal walls in a hospital. _Dat's weird. Shit. I can't control dis. Hope I making de right choice.._

"D'accord. When can ya do it?"

"Oh, we can start now, Mr LeBeau."

Remy shivered, at the man. Not his look, but his eyes. There was a look of almost excitement in them. _Merde, I gonna be dis mans guinea pig. Least if he was gonna dissect me he'd a done it when I was helpless, and not a threat to him. I hope._

* * *

When he awoke, it was in the hospital bed again. There was no bandage wrapped about him, but he could feel where the incision had been made along the back of his scalp. Already it was healed, but it still itched. Then again, what did already mean? Who knew how long he'd been out this time.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, LeBeau." The voice was the same, kind of, but not. It sounded like leather crumbling, a bone chilling voice. When his demonic eyes shifted, for the first time in his life he saw another pair of eyes similar to his own. It wasn't the eyes that caught his attention though. The man was tall, skin pure white, a red diamond in the middle of his forehead. When he smiled, his teeth looked sharp. And there was that odd blue body armor wrapped around him, and a cape that looked to be made of multiple self standing spans.

He felt his own face pale, and he swallowed hard. What kind of devil had he made a deal with?

".. ya... ya said ya name was Essex, not Satan.."

A cold laughter.

"My birth name was Nathaniel Essex, boy. The name I made my own was **Sinister**. Quit backing up in the bed, I will not harm you. A fall out of your bed would be undesirable. You are still weak from the operation, despite having five days to heal. It would hardly do for you to be delaying the promise of control I gave you."

For all the mans words, if he even was a man, Remy had the distinct feeling that Sinister wasn't interested in his good health for the same reasons Remy was. He wanted something, and it would just inconvenience him if he had to wait longer to get what he wanted.

_Why dis always happen ta me? Bella, Julien, Candra, de theater. Now dis. Dis all my life gonna be, stumbling blindly from one disaster to de next? Never a lasting taste a happiness? Do I deserve dat, even if I could get it? De blood, it still on my hands. Been dere ever since de wedding... Belladonna. Mon amour. I miss you._

"Really LeBeau, there is no need for you to be crying. Pull yourself together, and follow me."

"Que?"

"I said follow me. It is time to learn."

"D'accord." He didn't see that he had much choice, as he pushed out of bed. Surprised his legs held his weight, surprised at the chill in him as he pulled his coat – or one that looked like his duster, off a coat hook and on. He didn't bother to wipe the tears away.

He wasn't ashamed of them, not tears for his Bella. She deserved them, and many more.

* * *

Training with Sinister had proven interesting, to say the least. The man spoke of physics like a physicist, but more, he spoke of the feelings, the knowledge of how to use Remy's own powers as if he himself possessed them. For weeks, Sinister guided Remy LeBeau through the motions of training. A thing that was full of surprises to the cajun thief.

The first had been in finding his accuracy, previously a finely honed skill that would put even the best to shame, was heightened now. Sinister said that it came from his powers exerting control over the kinetic energy, making his deadly aim into being able to perform stunts out of Robin Hood tales. He could land one throwing knife into the hilt of another now without too much effort. More to the point, he found he didn't even need to use objects balanced for throwing as a weapon. Toothpicks, books, even cards, he could throw with an amazing accuracy, his kinetic powers over-riding the laws of physics when he turned things into projectiles.

Which was to say nothing about his explosive abilities. He'd begun to understand that process now, knew how to enact it. He could charge something until its atomic structure couldn't withhold the destabilizing overabundance of kinetic charge, disintegrating whatever he charged. Or he could just turn objects into bombs – far more useful, that. Then there was his spatial awareness, always sharp before, now he could draw mental images of his surroundings, or could almost see with his eyes closed, in all directions. It was overwhelming at first, but oddly Sinister pushed for that as much as he did his combat-useful abilities.

Strangest of all, was the one thing Sinister pushed more then anything. Mental shields. Five times a day, the white skinned man-thing lead him through meditation in that cold chilling voice, guiding him through the process of raising mental shields to control his empathy. At first he thought perhaps it was gone – Sinister was himself a blank to his empathy, but when one of Sinister's assistants was seen on the fifth day of training, the emotions neverly overwhelmed Gambit. They weren't even strong emotions, just passive, but they shook him to his core.

Accompanying the shields, Sinister taught him to apply his Empathy to others. Not in receiving, but in twisting. Remy knew he'd always been charming, he'd always had people eating out of the palms of his hands. This went beyond that, and in his heart he shivered. Realizing he'd done this to people before. Not to this level, no, but that he'd used these powers on people before. Certainly on Candra. Who else had been caught in his sway without him ever realizing it?

Had Bella truly loved him, or had she loved him because he wanted her to? It left him tossing and turning at night, and he couldn't even ask the blond anymore – not now that she was dead.

Things went from tolerable, to intolerable quickly though. As his health regained itself, Sinister began including physical conditioning into his training. Remy had always accounted himself as a fine fighter – one of the best in either Guild. He'd bested Julien in fencing, and fencing was never one of his preferred weapons. But what Sinister put him through, it made the Guilds mixed martial arts style seem like a fond memory. Street fighting, martial arts, savate, staff fighting, knife fighting. All skills he had some, or considerably more then some knowledge in. Sinister seemed intent to make LeBeau a living master of every form of fighting the scientist could think of.

And Sinister was not a soft or gentle teacher. He was harsh, cruel, and he cared not a whit for bruises or injuries sustained in training unless they were major or hindered further training. Yet Sinister never seemed to care when Remy hurt one of the instructors Sinister seemed to draw out of almost no where. By accident or on purpose, he never even mentioned it. Disturbing indeed.

Yet the savate instructor made it slightly more tolerable then it otherwise would have been. A dark haired french woman, she laughed easily and was entirely too nice in comparison to the others who worked for Sinister. More to the point, she was one of the permanent presences. Before long, she stayed in his quarters instead of her own.

The stress relief provided by her presence was great, but he didn't fool himself anymore. She didn't love him, and if she did, it was because his powers made her feel that way because he subconsciously needed someone to love him. She was good in bed though, and warm arms around him made the nightmares about the past lessen. Remy didn't fool himself though. It wasn't safety, she wasn't safe. She was Sinister's creature, but she was warm, and touch was a theraputic thing in and of itself for the cajun.

What stung was that he no longer felt himself caring that a woman not his wife shared his bed. All of those vows were broken, Bella was dead, and if it would help him live through for his atonement; well. Then it was a necessary evil, and her lips tasted good. Rich plum colored full lips, that he found infinitely kissable.

As swiftly as it began though, it all fell away.

* * *

Five months, he spent under Sinister's tutelage. Until one day none of the instructors were to be found. Even Melaine with her dark hair and plum full lips had gone while he'd been asleep. Wandering aimlessly through Sinister's complex, he found the man in his lab working at a console.

"LeBeau."

"Sinister."

"You slept in today."

"Mel wasn't around t'wake me up. Where she an de ot'ers go?"

"Their time with you has come to an end, Remy. It is time for your atonement, and your repayment of your debt to me to begin."

Remy felt his lips tightening. One thing he'd become fairly sure of, was that Sinister probably didn't have the best of agendas; but so far the man hadn't stepped outside of his offers to the cajun. He'd done everything he said he would. Rescued him from authorities, gave him control of his powers, put him into better shape then he'd ever been in his life. The only man who'd ever done as much for him had been Jean-Luc.

_Wonder what de old man be saying bout dis guy? Prolly ta not trust him any further den I could throw him._

"D'accord." He realized Sinister was waiting for a response, so he gave him one.

"Excellent. There are a number of others like yourself, Free Agents if you will, who are not fully aware of their capabilities. I can help them, as I have helped you. You will go to them, and bring them into my service. Do you understand?"

"Oui. Ya want me to recruit a buncha mutants for ya, and bring dem back to you. Anyt'ing I should be using on de sale? Salary? Room an board? Job occupation?" Remy inquired lightly. Maybe Sinister would finally give something of his plans away. It was a small hope, but it was a hope the cajun often found himself holding too. He still had no idea what this scientist was after, and with a name like Sinister it doubtlessly wasn't pleasant.

"Offer them what you need to. A salary up to 100 grand a year, living accommodations, help with their powers, so forth."

Frowning, Remy nodded, as Sinister handed him a number of folders. Then handed him a wallet – his own he realized, complete with his own id, but now there were new credit cards in there, and a good deal of cash.

"Ya giving me free reign on dis? Not going to come wit', or watch me while I do it?"

Sinister laughed, that laugh that grated on him so much. "No. You will hold to paying back your debts, Remy LeBeau, and you are a charmer. Now come. We are still in Seattle, I will show you the exit and entrance you may use to these facilities when you bring them back to me – one at a time. Take the time you need, but do not fail."

Remy found himself shivering, and slipped the files into his coats inner pockets – he still thought it must be his refitted. Or a very good imitation. It had all of the inner pockets and hidey holes his old duster had had. Without realizing he, he found he was patting the telescoping adamantim bo-staff in it's pocket, as if it might protect him.

* * *

Freedom. That's what the open road was, the wind gusting through his hair while he blazed down the high way going over 90 miles an hour. He'd aquired the Harley off Sinister's money, and he was on his way to Dallas Texas. The air was hot, even the wind was hot, but he was enjoying the sun beating down on his face, even if it still stung at his eyes some. Even with the shades, he found his eyes still hadn't fully adapted to sunlight again. Oddly, his tan wasn't lacking at all. Sinister must use some pretty hefty lights to accomplish that.

Well, best he get started on this. As the exit showed up ahead, he pulled off onto the ramp, losing speed. Philippa Sontag was the name of the woman he was after in this particular town. She ran a gym, of some sort, and was into body building. A vet of some kind, the files said. She was big on strength.

When he finally found the address – after stopping for a beer, some food, it was to laugh to himself as he studied the building. It looked like something out of the 60's more then a modern day fitness center. Old school, apparently. With a shrug, he slipped off his bike, pulled his duster out of his saddle bag, and slipped it on. Even in the warm Texas afternoon, Remy found there was often a chill in him that sun or fire didn't dispel. Sinister had muttered something about kinetic transference when he'd asked, but he hadn't understood a damn thing the pale man had explained to him, beyond the kinetic energy constantly being absorbed or moved by his body left him feeling a light chill.

"Whatcha want, prettyboy?"

Remy blinked, he hadn't expected an immediate greeting when he'd slipped in the doors. The place seemed empty, the only person there was a woman sitting on a counter, drinking from a coffee cup. She was well built – better built then he was even, and she had a grin the likes of which he wasn't used to seeing on a womans face. She wasn't precisely beautiful, just pretty. With purple hair, well toned body. Bountiful full breasts, she was kind of tall. 5'8" he knew from the file. Her stomach and thighs seemed to be her most sexually attractive feature to her, which Remy was all too happy to feast his eyes on. Melaine just hadn't been enough, and a day or two of travelling... Judging from her greeting, she must've thought he was a model or something.

_Heh. Couldn't be more wrong, femme. But I jus' have to teach you dat over de next few days, non?_

"De names Remy. Was lookin for a place ta work out, maybe a place ta stay. New in town, and don't like t'be wit'out a place to stay in shape."

That got a chuckle from her, but she grinned even more lecherously. "Kind of forward, ain't ya kid? You look pretty scrawny to me, unless that coats a lot baggier then it looks."

Remy just smiled lavishly at her, and slipped out of his trench coat. The black shirt he wore was tight, showing off chiseled muscles. Not to the extent of hers, but very impressive considering his body was naturally built for speed more then strength. Tall and lean, Gambit knew he was sin walking to most people, and the way he shifted and grin was a sin in and of itself.

Just for kicks, he leaned his head forward, to let his shades drop down his nose, revealing devils eyes smouldering at her.

It earned a reaction not like quite what he was expecting. She gasped, and hopped off her counter, crossing the room to look right into those eyes. Hook. Line. Sinker.

Six hours later, after sating his hunger, and then his other hunger, he found himself laying in her bed. A cigarette curled lazily in his left hand, as his right hand stroked her purple hair. She was rough, but it'd just transferred to him being more energetic. Physical things, forces, just reinvigorated him. A benefit of his powers, and Philippa had been all to eager to have him. He was fairly glad he'd been of like mind, because he wasn't entirely sure he could've stopped her if he hadn't shared her opinion. She hadn't showed it yet, but the file indicated her strength went far beyond the normal.

Occasionally, she murmured in her sleep, shifting so that her purple tresses tickled at his bare chest. What was he going to be getting this woman into? Somehow though, he didn't feel any guilt. Not this time. There'd already been glimpses of her personality. She was a woman on the edge. She had at least a good 10 years on him, and had seen active duty military service in a hot zone somewhere. It left it's mark on her. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Remy didn't know, he just knew the woman was hurting inside.

* * *

A week later, Remy found himself cooking breakfast. Again, smoking while he did so. Philippa oddly didn't seem to mind his habit, and even occasionally stole one of his cigs and took a few drags. Clad in just his boxers, he was flipping eggs when he sensed and then heard the rustling of Sontag out of the bedroom they shared.

"So cajun, why are you here?"

"T'cook some breakfast. Need de protien after whatcha did ta me last night." He turned his head to wink at her, and lick his lips. Maybe she was only pretty instead of beautiful, but she was a forceful demon in the sack.

"Don't feed me that crock, Remy. People like you don't just drift into a womans life unless their after something. You're sin incarnate, you could lead a nun so far into temptation she'd never turn back, and you know it. You're not just some college kid spending the summer traveling and saving expenses by hooking up with a lonely woman. You're different. Special."

Why'd she have to stare at his eyes when she said it? _Damnit Sontag. I ain't ready to go dere wit' you yet. Wanted dis to last a little longer._

With a sigh, Remy just shrugged. "Mebbe dat so. You special too though, chere."

There was nervous laughter in response to his statement. "Purple hair doesn't make me special, Remy."

"Non. But ya strength does, don' it chere? Ya hide it real well, doubt others even notice it. But ya get a little careless in de sack, especially when ya hitting de high notes. Wasn't for my own ..special talents.. ya would hurt me pretty bad a time or fifty by now." That smouldering grin crossing his lips with the words, the one that stirred desire in woman's hearts. It wasn't arrogance that he thought it, not anymore. He knew it for a fact, his empathy registered reactions like that without much thought, whenever he let his shields weaken to perceive emotions around him.

".. how.. did you know? I haven't told anyone." Now she was angry, and turned on. Dangerous combination, as affection and lust warred in her with her anger. He wasn't sure even his powers would afford him protection if she really let loose.

"I work for a man. He helped me wit' my abilities. Taught me how ta control dem, an den give me a job working for him. Good pay, good place ta live. Adventure, excitement, and not having to worry if a mob gonna turn on me at a moments notice cuz I'm some 'demon spawn'. Ya seen de news? Nother year or two, dere gonna be a lot of forces coming against people like us, cherie. I be here ta recruit ya, but was hopin ya take longer t'get to dis questioning.. been joying myself."

He could feel her anger melt away, with a rising of resentment for being mislead, but as he stepped from the stove – turning the range off as he did so, it began to fade as well as she looked into his eye.

Later, when they both lay sweaty and panting, she bit him on the shoulder, laughed, and climbed back atop him. Before proceeding though, she ruffled his hair like he was a boy. He hated when she did that.

"I'll come with you, Remy."

* * *

One down. Sinister had been pleased at how eager Sontag – although before he'd left, she'd already been calling herself Arclight, had been to join up with him. Although she'd been disappointed at finding out Remy would be hitting the road alone again almost as soon as he'd dropped her off. He'd felt a waft of jealous from her, but he gave her a kiss and got back on his bike. It wasn't like he loved her, and he was damn sure she didn't care for him that way. She just wanted his body.

At least she never pretended differently.

He was also beginning to see a pattern in these first two he'd been sent after. Military experience. Also, the south. Sinister appeared to like the south. Texan, Cajun, and now he was being sent after a native american who dwelled in a podunk little town – if it could even be called that, in Arizona.

_Millstone Arizona, pop 1249. Just wonderful. Dis gonna be de most boring shit I ever done. _He faught the sigh, as he hopped off his bike as he pulled into the only gas station in town. If it could even be called a town. Filling up his bike, he then pulled it around to be parked in front of the diner portion of the gas station. One of those large – at least in this hellhole, buildings split down the middle between convenience store/gas station, and a diner. Looked like that was a garage next to the place too.

Probably all owned by the same guy, if he had to guess.

Slipping in, he paid for the gas, then wandered on over to the diner, stopping when he crossed into it to eye the woman behind the counter. Sun darkened skin, Spanish descent in her blood if he had to guess, with brown eyes and almost jet black hair. A little lacking in the chest, and legs, but she was still an alluring creature. _Heh. Den again, what woman ain't I found alluring dese days? Hell, dis femme got probably 20 years on me, but dat don't mean much._

Readjusting his sunglasses, he strode to take a seat at the nearly empty counter, flashing that welcoming smile to the woman as she came over. Before she could even ask what he wanted, he'd smiled, eyed her name tag and offered a hand.

"De name is Remy, Clare. Pleasure t'meet ya. Just passin through Millstone while looking for someone. Mebbe ya can help me, chere?" As she went to shake his hand, his hand took hers and raised it to kiss her hand softly. He could feel her heart pulsing even faster from just that contact. He was getting better at this.

"Aren't you cocky? You're still wet behind the ears, boy, but maybe I'll break you in... Who's the friend you looking for? Don't know too many people in Millstone who have friends with the kind of money those sunglasses you're wearing, or that Harley your driving, say you have."

Remy just grinned, pulled out a smoke, light it with his zippo, and ran the fingers that still held her hand against her skin, before reluctantly letting go. He didn't want to cause too much of a scene. Not yet, anyway. Exhibitionism was never a good idea in small towns. At least she didn't wear a wedding ring, so there'd be no jealous husbands like there'd been in the last town he'd stopped at.

"Ya sure chere? Looks, dey be deciving. Might be a case of learning something new yaself... but I be looking for a homme named John Greycrow."

He wasn't expecting her to laugh. In response to either of his comments. She just grinned a cat ate the canary look at him, looked him up and down, then laughed again. It was a warm sound, and he knew he wouldn't need to even ask about a hotel room after that laugh.

"Greycrow is out in the desert. Some ritual or a hunt or something like that, he does it every few months. It's why the garage is closed down. Well, if you know Greycrow, you're welcome here Remy. You find a place to stay yet?"

"Glad t'hear dat, an non. I ain't. Just got into town a moment ago. Don't look like dere be a hotel here..." He already knew what was coming, but her smile made it all the more obvious.

"There isn't one. I can put you up until Greycrow comes back though." Remy was certain that play on words had been entirely intentional.

* * *

Her name was Clare de Luc, and she had taught him new things. Just as he'd taught her a few himself. The week waiting for Greycrow to arrive had been spent in wonderful company, and the nights were hot and not because it was Arizona in summer. She was the kind of woman who would've been his friend even if he wasn't sleeping with her, Clare. Easy going, bright, and easy to just talk to. Despite their age difference, he found he enjoyed being around her, even if the podunk status of Millstone prevented them having much of a night time social life outside of the towns sole bar.

She hadn't cared about his eyes, either.

But like all things, Greycrow returned. Upon meeting him, Remy wasn't sure what to think of the man. A large native american, but he had ex-military written all over him in his bearing. A stern face, but one that was quick to break into laughter when he made a joke. John Greycrow was the first man he'd met since he left New Orleans that he felt could warrant the name of friend.

Three weeks more, he spent in Millstone. Whiling the time away with Clare and Greycrow. Occasionally him and John went out 'hunting' as he called it. Which Remy found out actually meant treasure hunting, not tracking any kind of game. Still it was enjoyable time spent with Greycrow, and the proceeds that they made all went to helping Clare keep Millstone afloat. He'd never realized it, but the sexy chere he spent his nights with was the current mayor of the town.

It had to come to an end, though. This end wasn't quite the same as the one with Arclight had been though. Clare was asleep, she'd tried to drink the two of them under the table and got ahead of herself. She was already up in the bed.

"So LeBeau, you've hinted you came for my tracking skills. You ain't never made a offer to me yet though, or even said what kind of job we're talking about. You're forgetting the job, getting distracted by the fun of just being here with me an Clare. That speaks well of ya, but you still got a job to do if I ain't guessing wrong."

Remy felt himself sobering, and then sighing. He really wasn't sure he wanted to leave Millstone, not yet, but.. Sinister would be waiting.

"Yea, well. You right. Been a while since I met a femme like Clare. Ain't gonna like leaving her, Grey Crow. But guess it's bout dat time. Ya know I'm a mutant, and I seen ya use your powers to jury rig t'ings more'n a few times now. Man I work for, he gathering mutants. Help dem wit' dere powers, get control, give a solid job an dat stuff. Scientist type, he seem ta be pretty protective of mutants."

"Guy got a name?"

"Oui. His name be Essex."

Gray Crow laughed then, a chortling laugh and he just nodded. "I know Essex. I worked for him on a few jobs about 10 years back. Wasn't bad work, wouldn't mind doing it again. Always wondered if he'd just forgotten about me and left me to rot in Millstone."

"Well shit, dat was easier den I figured."

"I bet. We leave in the morning then?"

"Oui. I better go get packed, and make my good byes to Clare."

"Cajun?" "Yea?"

"Don't get sappy with her. She's a strong woman. Be straight, say good bye, and have your good bye screw. She's known you'd leave her since the day you rode in. She'll miss you, but she won't try and cling." He sounded like he had some authority on the subject, or had seen it with her before. Remy just shrugged, and moved to stumble up the stairs.

* * *

Grey Crow had tooken to Essex easily enough, they had worked together before he'd said, and it was obvious. That was good, because John was a friend. The next one wasn't going to be so easy though.

The most of the rest weren't too hard to convince either. A little charm, money, the usual promises as he conned them into following him back to Sinister. Seven down. Scrambler, Scalphunter, Riptide, Prism, Harpoon, Blockbuster, Arclight. The last two were a different story.

Primarily because the eight one was a man he wanted to kill. He'd gotten into an argument with Sinister over this one. Victor Creed, Sabretooth, was a remorseless brutal killer. A savage. Sinister had insisted. Remy caved.

That was how he found himself in a bar in Canada, buying drinks for a large brutish man who was grinning at him a sick demented grin. Occasionally Creed would barb him about their encounter in Paris, when he'd earned his Master of the Craft mark with a heist for a diamond. It hadn't ended well.

"Dat's de way it is, Creed. Money, ya get to do what ya do best, long as ya listen to de boss."

"Or I could just gut you, cajun. After what you pulled in Paris.."

"I de one dat should be saying dat, mon ami. You de one who killed my femme. All I did was steal a baubble."

Creed growled, but then he smirked. Remy already knew what he was thinking, just based on his emotions. He was thinking he could harm Remy by going along with the plan, surely there'd be more 'frails' as he'd call them, that he could gut to get at Remy.

_Poor fool don't realize he's going ta work for Sinister. If dere anyone I don't feel bad about tricking into dis, it be you Creed. If dere any justice in dis world, you gonna step wrong wit' Sinister, and he gonna snuff you out like a candle._

The two men stared daggers at eachother, then downed their beers.

"Fine, yer got yerself a deal cajun. But when the deals over? I'm going to gut you good."

"Ya welcome to try. I ain' easy meat no more."

* * *

Eight down. The last one. Well. Wasn't as much of a challenge as it was just difficult to meet her. Sinister himself had had to arrange this meeting, and it was from Sinister's transport he descended into the antarctic snows, and a woman in white and green, with green hair, stood waiting to meet him.

A thumb jerked at the transport, an eyebrow arched. He didn't want to exerpience this cold for long. She seemed to share his opinion, because she nodded. Once both were aboard, he shut the hatch and discarded the shades and heavy hat that'd kept his ears warm.

The woman was exotic. More exotic then any he'd ever seen. Green hair that was streaked with white, green eyes. She was a bit short, or at least, average. But her body made his throat go dry. Once she slipped out of the green bulky jackets, she was in a skin tight bodysuite, still revealing the effects the cold had had upon her.

"Tres belle. You be exquisite, chere." He offered with a bow, complimenting her. To his surprise, she blushed and actually stammered a little bit, as if unsure how she should respond to that. Had no one ever flirted with her before?

"Vertigo, not Cher." She corrected him when she got over herself, and Remy found himself nodding. Isolationist mutant, perhaps? The file on her was .. rather lacking. A picture, and a description of her abilities. That was all. Remy knew how to lure this one though. The blush had given it all away.

"Ya want something to drink while we talk?" He offered, while getting himself a soda from the stocked mini-fridge. Which surprised him, but then Essex probably had anticipated the way in which he'd go about handling Vertigo. That was the only real explanation he could think of. There was good wine in there too..

"No, thank you. What do you want, that is so important you come here for?"

Remy smiled, letting his unhidden eyes slide over her – quickly, can't come on too strong this time. Then back to her face, meeting those beautiful green eyes. She was beautiful, the most beautiful of all the women he'd met on this little trek of Sinister's. He nodded to the seats, and when she opted for one of the long bench seats, he joined her, but with space between them.

"Well Vertigo, if I'd known how beautiful ya was, I'da come down here a long time ago. No one ever told me dat de Arctic held such treasures as you." His voice light, not too heavy. Just enough to begin to snare her, to catch her with the charm. To twist at her curiosity, and turn it into the beginnings of a crush on him.

Which she didn't seem to know, not for sure, how to handle. _My lord. She an innocent. She ain't never been wit' a man, if just a little flirting is getting to her. She even squirming subconsciously now, as if she ain't never had anyones eyes flickering over her. Mostly lower body. Poor petite, doubt she ever even felt de flames of want burning dere before...It be warm enough in here dat dem nipples shouldn't be hard still, but dey are. Sometimes Essex, working for you ain't so bad._

He'd like to say he'd hate himself in the morning, as he deftly conned her, with words and his powers. Lightly twisting that crush into something deeper, into love, into lust, into desire. It took him perhaps a half hour of just chit chatting and flirting, and she never seemed to even think about getting impatient about him not getting to the point.

He did get to the point, so to speak, some time later. After he'd helped her peel that skin tight suit off her skin, and they made use of the bench couch. He'd been right, she'd been pure. Been. Not any longer. He'd stole that from her as deftly as he'd ever stolen any jewels or paintings.

Even while flying the transport, he dwelled on the fact he'd never seen thighs so pale as hers, and the mental image of those legs wrapped around him burned in his head, or how firm her rear had felt in his hands, or the burning fire her kisses had imparted to his lips. Or the way painfully erect nipples had carved against his chest while they lay together, feeling like they'd cut into his body. She was a forbidden flower, one he had plucked. One that he would pluck again, and frequently, if he had his say.

On the long flight back to Essex's headquarters, he began to feel guilty. To ease his guilt, he helped Vertigo join the mile high club. Soon after, there was no more time for guilt, because there was Sinister. Vertigo didn't even have the decency to be afraid of him, instead she just clutched to his arm and nuzzled his shoulder.

Sinister just nodded, as if it'd been expected.

"Come with me, Vertigo. We must go through some details before you can get situated."

"Can't I stay with Remy?"

"You can be with Mr. LeBeau after we have finished running a few tests."

"Oh. Okay." "Straight ahead, the door with a red triangle above it."

As Vertigo walked away, Sinister eyed Remy, and it made Gambit minorly uncomfortable. "Well done, LeBeau, if you over-did it some. She's a bit too deeply in love with you, but that may be to our benefit. She would follow you anywhere."

"Yea, well, you said get dem all. I got dem all."

"Indeed. You did. You may retreat to your quarters. When I have finished running my tests, I will send Vertigo and Arclight to join you. Tomorrow, you will meet your new team all together, and beginning learning to handle them."

_Merde! My team? What, he expects me to lead dese bunch of miscreants and nutjobs? Oy. An he's going .. to send dem to my quarters? Both of dem? What, paying me off like a good little puppy with a doggy treat cuz I performed well? Don't like dis at all._

All he said though was a light "D'Accord" with a nod of his head.

"And LeBeau? You need to chose a code name. The others already had them, or have been given them. I will allow you to chose your own."

Remy frowned as Sinister strode away. The implications.. 'allow'? Remy didn't like the tone of that, but he owed the man. He'd made a deal with the devil.

Lord help him. At least he'd get more time with Vertigo.. and Arclight. Both at the same time. The cajuns frown was gone, by the time he slipped into his quarters.

* * *

Authors Note: And here begins the reasoning for many of the Marauders have major loathing and hatred for Remy. Not only did he use his powers on most of them, but he is also Sinister's favorte. Accorded rights as a person, instead of just a belonging – which will become more evident next chapter.

No, he wasn't heroic this chapter, in fact he was mostly villainous. The way he used his empathy to get them to do what they want, or made Vertigo fall in love with him because it was just simple. My explination for why I made this clear – perhaps more worse then it was in the comics, will be explained in future chapters, when Remy is with the X-men.

Yes, he's burning through women like he does cigarettes, yes, he still hasn't actually coped with Belladonna's death. This is his avoidance mechanism, his way of delaying having to deal with it.


	9. The Marauders

The next day, Remy was sore after he'd climbed out of his room. Getting dressed had been a bit of a struggle. It wasn't until after he'd wandered some, eaten, that the intake of kinetic energy from moving had begun to restore some of his vitality and relieve some of the soreness. A woman like Arclight was a handful on her own, but with her and Vertigo at once.. it was a miracle he was walking today. There was also a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, at how easily Vertigo had went along with it, as if it was accepted practice. More likely, he figured she just didn't know any better.

Arclight had been another matter though. When she'd first arrived, he'd felt a touch of fear in her. She hadn't talked or hinted at it, but why would there be any fear in her? What had happened in the few months it'd taken him to gather all of these people for Sinister? What was going on in this place.

Frowning, he left the kitchen and sought out Essex. The man was in his lab, as usual. He noticed Harpoon eying him almost fearfully, a widening of his eyes as Remy calmly walked into Sinister's lab as if he had every right to be there. Were the others kept under tighter reigns then he was? Something was off about all of this.

"LeBeau. You're growing stronger, if you are up and walking again already." A barb like that should've came with a smile. Sinister was just noting that he'd gotten more adept at using his kinetic energies to power himself, and was pleased with that, rather then any crude joke about his escapdes of the night before.

_Oh lord, let it be dat. If he's getting interested in my sex life, I don't t'ink I ever be able to get it up again. Last t'ing I need is pale pasty freak trying to breed me wit' someone. Seems like something he do._

His lack of an answer or quip, he realized, had Sinister looking at him frowning. Of course, Remy had no idea that the frown was because Sinister was annoyed that the young mans psi-shields, combined with his kinetic static aura, blocked even him from his mind unless he resorted to expending so much effort there was no way Remy could not notice it. Troublesome, yet necessary if LeBeau was going to be of any use to him.

"Sorry, was just t'inkin bout Vertigo. Dat femme.. she got de best thighs, makes ya wanna jus' run ya fingers along de curve of her hips, or grip dem an.." A shrug of the cajuns shoulders, and an impish grin was turned towards Sinister.

Who just frowned at him a bit more. Then gestured for the young man to join him up on the raised dias that represented the control consoles of Sinister's labs.

"Have you decided on a name for yourself as I told you?"

"Oi. Gambit."

Sinister actually looked surprised at that choice, he thought to himself happily. Hopefully the man wouldn't realize everything now had become a gambit, a reckless risk that he just hoped he could turn into his favor down the line. Sinister was really starting to creep him the hell out.

"How appropriate. Very well, Gambit. I have a number of tasks I require of you. Most of them you will be able to accomplish alone, but on some I will send one or two of your recruits with you. Simple missions, quiet beneath a thief of your skill, but I require a number of things to be acquired to continue my research. You will acquire them for me."

It was not a question, Remy noticed quite quickly. He just nodded, and waited for what would come. Stealing. He knew stealing. That wasn't so bad.

"You will also use these missions to break in your team mates. You will take one or two of them with you except on the missions where their stealth is a liability to you." That wording gnawed at the cajun. As if Sinister didn't care what happened to the others, but for some reason Remy was important to him, or of far more value. Why? Because he was the first one Sinister found?

"Here is the initial mission." A file was handed over to him. "You will take Arclight and Scrambler with you. In the future, the rest of your missions and details will be uploaded to the console in your quarters. If you have questions, you may come and see me. Otherwise, I am not to be disturbed, I am in the midst of very important work."

The cajun frowned, but nodded again. It was better to just give him answers he wanted, not to say more, until he knew what was going on.

"You will, however, come to see me each day you are present and not on a mission. Your training is lacking in one finale department, Gambit. You must improve upon your hacking abilities, for it will be required in future assignments. 10am."

The cajun frowned at that contradiction. No one was allowed to disturb him, but he was to spend time with Essex each day learning how to hack a computer? It was rare that Essex taught anyone personally Remy knew. He hadn't even bothered with the others, at least according to Arclight. Just one of his assistants had done so. This was getting odder, and odder.

* * *

That was the way it went for almost eight months. Covert ops style missions. Not all of them were stealing though. Oh, initially they were. But slowly they were coming to represent more cover and combat orientation. Slowly he'd brought his 'team' to heel, as well. Even Grey Crow deferred to him, but he didn't do it out of fear, the way the others seemed to. Even Creed listened to him, and the threats were few and far between. Which was a very awkward situation.

More awkward, had been his relationship, if one could call it that, with Essex. The man spent time with him regularly. Teaching him how to bypass any kind of computer systems, how to get past things they hadn't even known how to sidestep in the Guilds. He wasn't as good as Essex was, but he was good enough. Yet that wasn't the end of it. When he'd become as good as Essex declared was 'good enough', their sessions had turned into philsophy discussions. Into political discussions. If Remy hadn't been a con man himself, he'd never have known those sessions for what they were.

Sinister was trying to teach him. To elevate his thinking beyond the horizons he'd seen in the Guilds. Which was in itself disturbing, but more so was the fact those discussions didn't happen in his labs anymore. Instead they happened in Sinister's private dining area, and no one ever disturbed him. No one else was even allowed into that room – except in extreme emergency, beyond the young dull eyed servant who served out their meals.

It scared Remy. Scared him a lot, because Sinister seemed to be trying to be his mentor.

While the team listened to him, did whatever he said, he'd also become aware of a growing resentment. Four months in, he'd begun to sense it even in Vertigo. She came to his bed regularly still, alone now. Arclight had stopped coming when he'd felt she didn't want to be there, and he'd sent her away. She'd been about to cry when he sent her away, and he didn't understand why, and no one would tell him when he inquired. Not even Grey Crow.

He didn't even understand Vertigo's resentment. She loved him, but she resented him for some reason. Because he wasn't totally faithful to her? Because he went out on the town and dallied with others? His 'friendship' with Essex? He had no clue, but as time wore on, he began to see a cruel streak forming in the once innocent woman. A vicious cruel streak. Never aimed at him though, but always at others.

Still, she was a warm body, she loved him, and nights spent with her were enjoyable. Even if the cruel streak was a turn off, she had improved remarkably from the first clumsy attempts she'd made at love making, to a true vixen in the sack. Perhaps it was a weakness, but he loved to caress her thighs, or feel those hard nipples of her dragging against his chest. For the longest time, he counted her as one of the few enjoyments in his life.

That ended after their most recent mission.

* * *

South America. It was a full team job, one of the irregular ones. Usually at most it was four or five of them, but this was a military complex and Sinister wanted only two things. The data from their mainframe, and the total destruction of the complex. Which sat ill with Remy, until Sinister had shown him the files, the videos, and then he had simply nodded. They experimented on mutants in that place, did awful awful things to them.

Things that he couldn't allow to keep happening. What was a little spilled blood of the guilty, in comparison the innocent blood on his hands?

That was how the thief had found himself staring as fire engulfed buildings, as he watched Vertigo take down a whole platoon of soldiers by herself. Watched Creed leaping and dashing between opponents, happily showing his teeth and claws. Even more happily using them to gore people. Scalphunter stood upon one of the buildings, firing rounds from his odd sniper rifle. Harpoon threw those energy spears of his, decimating groups of four or five men at a time.

Perhaps most impressive was Arclight, when she slammed her hands together and pulverized a tank with the seismic forces she unleashed. The impressive part however, was when she strode forward, grasped the tank in her hands, and hurled it into a building – taking out over half of a barracks. Remy swallowed.

"Gambit, ya gonna give any orders?" Scrambler asked from besides him, as the two exited the command center. They'd gotten the data while the others provided 'distractions'. Scrambler had been mostly useless, except in making sure no data remained for whoever might come after though. It'd been the thief himself who'd had to take out all the Guards inside the building. Sinister's training was still in full show though, he'd dispatched military men as if they were kids. Perhaps for the first time, the cajun was brutually aware of how skilled he'd become. He'd surpassed masters level in most of his fighting styles, and was well above the Elite status of most Special Ops military commandos.

He swallowed though, at the destruction he saw unleashed. Scrambler didn't seem bothered by it though, he just didn't partake. Because he was physically weak, and didn't want to get himself hurt no doubt.

Off to his left, he heard the sounds that could only be Riptide laying into an armory. As hundreds of super hard resin spikes struck ammo with enough impact to begin setting it off. Smoke rose from that direction, and the cajun shook his head.

Then tapped the button that'd transmit to each of the others headsets.

"Data aquired. Finish dis base off so we can get out of here. Don't wanna be here when backup arrives."

"What about the runners, cajun?" Creed. Of course it was Creed.

"If Scalphunter can't pick dem off, forget about dem."

"_He_ said no survivors cajun. Ya let em get away, and you can tell _Him_ it was yer orders."

Gambit shook his head, sighed. "Scalphunter? Can ya pick off de runners?"

"Already on it, boss. Only ones out of range."

"One won't matter." He said decisively. A few of the team looked at him in askance, but no one questioned it. They'd learned obedience – somewhere, and Remy's word was law on missions like this and they knew it.

The killing, the killing was bad enough. What he wasn't prepared for was what was happening as the conflict began to settle down. His teammates didn't stop their destruction – they weren't supposed to, not on the base itself, but they were going out of their way to kill the few remaining soldiers painfully. Or to desecrate those already dead.

What wrung his heart the most was seeing Vertigo using a piece of shrapnel from an earlier explosion while she hacked at a corpse. He expected it from Creed, but from Vertigo? Not his pale little green haired Vertigo. Before he could even say anything to her, she'd moved on to a soldier who'd just been wounded... and began to torture him. Only Scalphunter seemed above the desecration, walking wearily amongst the dead and just cutting whoever's throat who hadn't died yet. At least he was quick, efficient, it was almost a mercy compared to the others.

Gambit closed his eyes, hard. Aware that in whatever direction he looked, he was going to see the same. Even Scrambler had gone out to join in, now that the threat to him was almost minimal. Remy focused on holding the contents of his stomach, then stormed into the haze of fires, and began to make sure the real job was finished. Blowing up the rest of the base.

He'd never been so relieved to see one of Sinister's portals open before, and for them all to jump into it. Of course, Creed spoke up once they were in. "Cajun let one get away." Not to Sinister, but he was looking at Arclight as he said it. Arclight studiously did not meet his gaze.

Sinister looked unperturbed however. He merely gestured for them all to go.

"A job well done. Gambit, I will speak with you later for debriefing. Creed, you and I will talk now." All of the others seemed to shiver as they strode off. To clean up, to eat, whatever. In Gambit's case, it was to take a long shower. One he very much hoped Vertigo did not try and join him for, for once.

* * *

It was hours later, when cleaned up and feeling a little more relaxed, he wandered the clean halls of Sinister's complex. He'd always wondered how big it was, but even he didn't know. There were partial schematics he'd seen, which made the place look huge. But those odd Tesseract portals littered the base to other places. Who knew how big, and how much of the world, Sinister's reach extended too.

"Why you looking so glum, Gambit?" He blinked, startled for a moment at Arclight's voice. He offered a grin to the purple haired woman. She rarely spoke with him these days, except on missions, or to play a game of cards with him and Grey Crow.

"Oh, just t'inking chere. Ya know. Things.."

"Ya disturbed about what your little China Doll was doing today, aren't ya?" She asked, a curious look. No jealous from Arclight. Just pity.

"Well.. yea. She was innocent when I met here, an now.. now she something else." Gambit couldn't clarify, just let it hang there.

Surprisingly, Arclight nodded. "She's what _He_ made her into cajun. We all are. Maybe even you."

A tilt of his head, a questioning look given to her. A lack of comprehension almost clear in the cajuns eyes. "Whatcha mean by dat? Her, and 'maybe even me'? An why ya all call Sinister _Him_?"

It'd bothered him, but it'd taken him a while to notice. They called Gambit boss, or sir. They called Essex _him_. As if he were God. They never even addressed him unless he spoke to them first. What power did Sinister hold over them all? What threat? What fear? Or were they truly that respectful of him? He found it hard to imagine any of these people, most of them were murderers, being respectful to someone.

To his bafflement, Arclight laughed. Then looked at him as if she'd never seen him before. "You really don't know.. Scalphunter said you didn't, but... Oh cajun. I might've kept coming to your bed if I'd known that, and me and Scalphunter..." She trailed off, but she had reached out and ruffled his hair the way she used to after they'd slept together and she was especially happy with his performance.

Then she looked shocked at what she'd done, and took a deep breath, scanning the halls. No one else was around, but Gambit knew that already without even looking.

"Don't know what?"

"Cajun.. If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you. "

"... Philippa.." Maybe that plea in his tone would draw it out of her? Her face softened, then stiffened, and she shook her head.

"Sorry cajun."

"Where's Creed?" Creed would tell him. Creed didn't care about rules, he'd do it just to jab a knife into him, if it was as bad as he was beginning to think it would be.

Arclight frowned. "He's probably still with _Him_. Based on past examples, I guess we won't see him for another four or five hours." She shrugged. "Gotta go, Gambit. Scalphunter's waiting on me. He always says I take too long, and this time it wasn't even my fault.." A reluctant smile, and she drifted off.

Before she'd even gotten 10 steps, the intercom of the base sounded. "Gambit, please report to the dining room for your debriefing with Doctor Essex." Not Sinister's voice. One of the lab assistants, who almost stumbled over Essex's name.

_Time to get some answers. Had enough of dis cloak and dagger mysterious crap._.

* * *

The dining room was as perfect as ever. The table set perfectly, the china worth enough he'd often considered stealing it. The silverware old, but in remarkable condition. In short, perfect. Essex liked his private places to be perfect, or his version of perfect, Remy imagined.

Seated across from the man, he toyed lightly with his fork after flipping a piece of steak into his mouth. Food was always good, but it tasted like ash in his mouth this time.

"You're unusually quiet this evening, Gambit. It's very unbecoming of you. What is pulling on your thoughts? Sabretooth's daring to question your orders?" Sinister inquired lightly. For these meals, he always wore the pale faced image of a Doctor, not his quite as scary visage of Sinister. Remy knew the other was the truth though, so the little deception did nothing to lighten his mood.

"Non. Didn't bother me none, him questionin. Ya gave an order, an I changed dat. Figure dat an allowable kinda t'ing, non?"

Sinister seemed to consider this for a moment. "True, you did fail to meet my requirement of no survivors. However one survivor matters little, and the other order, the permanent order, is that they obey you."

_Oh so dat's what dis is about. Mebbe dey ain't wrong, mebbe I am just ya pet on a lesh, or ya favorite. Dat's gotta be what all dat resentment from dem means, or de whispers dey don't think I can hear. Why it matter to him so much if they don't follow me without question?_

"Yeah.. so, ya happy wit' de mission? I didn't like it. De 'activites' dey perpetrated after we pretty much won. Torture an desecrating corpses.. dat's a bit much, even from my lil band of Marauders."

Sinister had been eying him thoughtful while he spoke, then almost smiled at his last words. A thoughtful look passing through his mind. Of course, Remy had no idea that's what the team was actually called. Only the others knew it, and Sinister had explained revealing anything to Gambit Sinister didn't want him to know would be met with pain of death. Very very painful pain of death. Just as ignoring Gambit's orders ended the same way. He could just clone them again, after all.

"Marauders. A fitting name for your band. We shall keep it." Sinister nodded. That nod that said he'd spoken, and arguing with him would be pointless. While Remy could sometimes get his way, or was allowed to, Sinister ultimately did what he wanted unless it was a very very compelling argument. Arguing over a name seemed unimportant.

_Specially over a name of something dat I intend to be quitting real soon._

"An about de .. t'ings I mentioned?"

Essex frowned. "People will be people, Mr. LeBeau. You cannot expect mercenaries to act like civilized people. That is what they are, mercenaries, paid for and fighting for our cause."

"Bout dat.. 'our cause'. How much longer I gotta work for ya, before we even? Before de debt I got to ya be cancelled?"

Essex laughed at that. That grating horrible laugh. Accompanied by the smile. Remy felt like his stomach was going to hurl all of it's contents onto the table. The man was a master at unnerving people, and this was worse then seeing the Marauders doing their business back at that base.

"Hmm. You have served me for over a year now, Mr LeBeau. I learned much from training you that I did not previously know, and your scans were extremely useful in my research. You have recruited for me, lead for me. If it is your desire to leave us, I will call your debt paid."

Remy heaved a sigh of relief. Until Essex opened his mouth again.

"However, if you go on one more mission, I will provide you one last boon LeBeau."

"Que?" What did have have to offer that'd make him stay? Remy had no clue.

"If you lead the next mission, I will restore your love, Belladonna, back to life."

Blood had left Remy's face. His hands had clamped on the arms of his chair. His heart pounding. His mind rushing. He could.. he could do that? Belladonna? Return her to life, from whatever had killed her? How? Why? Why didn't he mention this earlier?

"An.. an she be _my_ Bella? Have all her memories, still love me, I have my wife back, 'xactly de way she was?" This had to be a trick, but Sinister didn't lie. Not when he was making a deal.

"Yes. She will be exactly as she was."

"Den I do it." No hesitation at all. Not to have Bella back into his life, to have his wife back. How would he face her with what he'd become? She could help him find redemption. Sinister surely hadn't. He'd done things, bad things; supposedly for the greater good. Yet somehow, Remy had the feeling the greater good just happened to coincide with Sinister's research agenda.

"I warn you, the next mission will be darker then your previous ones."

"Don' matter, not if you give Bella back to me."

Sinister smiled. Remy shivered. He'd just sold his soul again. _Dis time, dis time. I do it for you, Bella. No matter what it be._

* * *

**Authors Note**: Dun dun dun... Will Remy go Evil for Belladonna's ressurection, or will he finally display the heart of a hero? 


	10. Mutant Massacre

"C'mon Marauders, quick slacking. We got a job t'do. Dis one don't make much sense ta me, but we do what we told." Gambit told the group arrayed behind him, as the Tesseract that had deposited them in the sewers of New York closed behind them. He had no problem with the dark, but for others benefit he charged a card as he lead the way as Sinister had said.

The tunnels were dank, dark, and smelled. Swers. Gambit shrugged, and lead the way. Creed taking a spot besides him, sniffing at the air as he lead the way.

"Frail ahead of us Gumbo, hiding in the shadows."

"I see her Creed, t'anks."

Gambit just eyed the shadows as they approached. The woman was older, and hiding in fear, as if afraid to so much as move. Remy only had a moment to realize she was afraid, and then she was angry. Fight or flight complex, and hers kicked to fight. He wasn't expecting how she fought though.

His mental shields rippled as she launched an attack at the Marauders emotions. One that resulted in Vertigo jumping at Arclight with her claws to try and scrape the others face. "Bitch! The Cajun is mine! MINE!"

Gambit didn't have time for this, he exerted his own empathy, over-riding and undoing what the older woman had done. She wasn't as strong as he was, she was no threat. None the less, while he rebalanced emotions, a gunshot rang out. Muzzle of Scalphunter's rifle flaring in the dark tunnels.

"Merde man, she was jus' a defenseless woman. She couldn'ta overcome my strength."

"Don't matter Gambit. _His_ orders. No witnesses. No survivors. You heard it as well as me." Gambit frowned. Grey Crow had never countermanded him that way before, but he just nodded.

"D'Accord.." It was still wrong. Remy nodded, as he saw Vertigo and Arclight shaking hands, and he hiked his hand to indicate they should keep going.

Once or twice more, they encountered similar situations. Weaker mutants attempting to attack them from what they thought was the safety of shadows. After the first, Remy just had Creed scout ahead. They didn't have that problem anymore, and Remy didn't have to see the butchering.

_Lord, dis gotta be the right thing. Dese gotta be evil people. But why dey just afraid den? So afraid. Dese ain't warriors. Why we killing dem? Oh Bella.. You gonna be able to lay in my arms again, wit' dis weighting me down, dis blood on my hands?_

Gambit firmed his resolve, and stepped ahead. As they strode through tunnels, they heard a commotion beginning ahead. Creed appeared out of the sewer water, while the rest of them walked the walkways. "Found 'em. Dead ahead. One of em saw me though, ran before I could gut em. Alarms raised."

"Y'know what to do." He dreaded saying those words, but the Marauders almost universally smirked. These people were free, they could live their own lives. Gambit could feel the satisfaction in them, at being empowered to take that freedom away.

Lord have Mercy on his soul.

The Marauders charged ahead of him.

* * *

It was a crisp day, pleasant. The weather was serene, just as the Goddess who controlled it. Ororo Monroe rested lazily in her class room, grading the social studies papers that rested on her desk. The serenity was not to last, however, when the soft classical music wasn't all she was hearing. Instead, it was a telepathic intrusion.

_All X-men report to the War Room. Students, please go to your rooms. A.S.A.P._

Charles Xavier's voice rarely ever sounded so dire. Ororo Monroe, Storm, was up and out of her chair and running to the elevator like the lightning she could summon. _Oh Bright Lady, what has happened now?_

When she made it into the War Room after changing into her uniform, she met the gaze of her compatriarts. The X-men. Scott Summers stood tall in his black leathers, the epitome of Xavier's dream. His voice was pale. Jean Grey, her dearest friend, clutched his arm looking sick. Thunderbird sat at the table, a massive man, an Apache. He was a warrior through and through, and would die for any cause he deemed worthy. Even he was nervous, fidgeting. Sean Cassidy, the red haired irishman, the eldest of the X-men, looked just as nervous.

It was Charles that held her eyes though. He looked to be close to despair.

"Five minutes ago, Artie emerged from the tunnels that connect to the mansions escape routes. You all recall the Morlocks?" Nods came from those present, and Storm felt despair welling in her stomach.

_Oh Bright Lady, what's happened to them? It must be terrible._ She felt anger growing in her. A year ago, they had made contact with the Morlocks when securing the escape tunnels beneath the mansion. Charles had offered them all sanctuary in the mansion, but they had refused it. Scoffing off society, and 'pretty' people. Ororo had never been so sneared at as the day Callisto had wrinkled her nose and spat 'pretty' at her like a curse.

Worse, Storm had become their Guardian, their leader by Rite. Callisto had refused to even accept aid from Charles. In the duel that had followed, Ororo had came out triumphant, and they provided the Morlocks with extra food, clothing, medicines. It was rare they came beyond to get the pick ups they left in the Tunnels for them...

Storm realized she'd slightly zoned out in her fear, and the word she heard coming shocked her.

".. mass murders. There is a group of unidentified mutants massacring the Morlocks. You must stop them. From what I have learned with Cerebro, already over fifty are dead. This could well be the darkest day in the history of mutant kind, my X-men. Go. Save them."

Storm shrieked, but there were boots moving at Charles words. Storm needed no hand to encourage her to move, in fact, winds gusted down halls, catching the wings of her costumes, adding speed to her and her compatriots as they broke for the tunnels, and the Morlock tunnels.

_We cannot be late. We cannot. Oh Bright Lady, favor us and allow us to arrive on time... please!_

_As you relate parts of the tunnels are clear, I will be coming from behind with some of the older students, to help evacuate and get medical treatment prepared for the injured. Move swiftly._

What Charles Xavier didn't tell them was he'd already dispatched Lila Cheney, on a favor, to bring Moira MacTaggert from Scotland, or that he'd sent word to some of his contacts to get more medical supplies being sent, and called in old students to help.

The Darkest day in mutant history, indeed. Charles wiped the tears from his face, as he felt another flickering loss of life in the Morlock tunnels. Something was stopping him from doing anything more then sensing though... The Most powerful Telepath in the world, and he was rendered powerless in a situation of such importance.

* * *

The Marauders had fanned forward. Breaking into pairs of two. Remy found himself with Sabretooth. He knew the others were ahead, he could tell by the screaming. So much screaming. He had witnessed horrors, or he thought he had. The Theater had been nothing compared to this. Those people never really had time to truly fear what was about to happen. The Marauders waded through these disfigured mutants with the ease of a mastiff killing kittens.

He'd never realized, not really, how truly dangerous his compatriots were. It was rending his soul, each scream. Each dying cry. But the initial ring of reactions to their presence had finally been broken. The women and men who could fight them, or would, had all been killed.

_Oh Belladonna, mon amour. I love you wit' my heart and soul, but I gotta stop dis. I gotta. Dese men and women didn't do nothing wrong... OH MERDE!_

While he'd been shocked by the horrors, him and Creed had advanced into a chamber where a pink skinned girl with bones sticking out of her hid in a corner. Creed had already ripped through the two women who'd been trying to guard her, and was stalking forward towards her. Slow like. Creed liked the smell of fear.

"NON!" He didn't even realize he'd done it, until three of his throwing spikes embedded into Creed's back, and then exploded. Ripping the mans flesh to ribbons, as he launched himself across the room like lightning, adamantium bo-staff taking Creed in the head, and sending him spinning away.

"C'mon petite, we gotta get you outta dis place! C'mon. You can trus' Gambit, he won't let no one hurt ya, okay petite?" He didn't even bother wasting time trying to calm her normally, as he snatched her up in his arm. She was so small, so frail, and Creed had been going to kill her.

_Oh. Oh no. Children. Dese aren't military or some bad guys. Dese just people, outcasts cuz of dere looks, living down here afraid of society. Children.. oh god. _

He'd already been spinning to head back the way he'd come, but his kinetic senses warned him even as he ran. He shifted, but only barely avoided the claws that slashed his body armor, putting a rent into his side that leaked with red blood. Not deep, but oh it hurt.

"Heh.. heh.. Knew you'd turn traitor, Gumbo. Boss knew it too. Knew you were too panzy to handle offing a buncha frails like a real man. There just lame deers t'be killed, gumbo. But you... you.. heh. Always _His_ favorite. That's over now, he knew you'd puss out. Told me to make ya suffer if ya pussied out too." Creed was so busy talking and gloating over scoring a hit on the Cajun, he didn't realize Remy was already running again.

Or that the tunnel arch was glowing pink, before it collapsed onto him.

What had he done? What had he helped do? There was only one choice...

"Ya gonna be okay petite. Where y'friends? We gotta get as many of ya out of here as we can. Okay petite?"

* * *

The X-men had faced many a dark things in their time, but never anything this dark. Never. As they entered the tunnels, they directed the few fleeing Morlocks they ran across back towards the mansion, and split into teams. Before they'd gotten more then a few steps, Light Flared, and Lila Cheney stood in her leather mini skirt. At her side stood a man they all knew. His name was Brian Braddock. Captain Britian. In another blinding flare, Lila was gone, and Brian inclined his head to Scott. Deference to the local leader, from the Champion of the United Kingdom.

"Storm, you and Thunderbird. Banshee, you and Captain Britian. Jean and I." With each barked pair, he pointed down a different branch in the tunnels that lead from the X-men's corridors. Soon, if not within seconds, those would be guarded by the oldest of the students.

Everyone nodded at the pairings. Storm had to admit they made sense. Scott and Jean were a natural match, body and soul. To be expected of the original two X-men, and of an engaged couple. Banshee had served for a time with Brian in the United Kingdom, when he worked with Interpol. And Storm was familiar with working with Thunderbird. No one wasted time, as they broke into the tunnels.

Anger warred with clastrauphobia within Storm. The people she had the duty to were being murdered, and she could not allow her fears to conquer her. She felt the faint press of Charles mind briefly, giving her strength to help overcome her fears, as her and Thunderbird ran down tunnels. It didn't get any better as they went in further, occasional fleeing Morlocks that they directed back to the mansion, but further ahead they could hear the screams emerging out of terrified throats.

Bursting through the tunnels into one of the more wide open chambers, Storm almost bit her tongue as she saw what was happening. A massive woman was smashing through Morlocks, killing with simple blows. Whatever her fists didn't kill, was shattered by seismic waves of force. Waves that Storm noticed were poorly controlled.

Worse, a dark native American man worked behind her, his rifle firing with precision accuracy. He turned rapidly, and took fire at Thunderbird. If the Apache had been taken unaware, it might have worked. But Thunderbird ran like the wind, and moved like a freight train she knew. He was going straight for the other native American, yet a bullet still rifled through his leg, slowing him down. Another flesh wound, before him and Scalphunter were locked in physical combat.

Not that Storm had time to watch, she was limited in these tunnels, but she couldn't let that woman finish off those children! Lightning crackled and seared the air as it lept from her finger tips. Striking the purple haired woman once, then again. She seemed to shrug off the first few.

"That tickled." Arclight laughed.

"These will do more then tickle." Storm hollared over the thickening air currents, as a true massive bolt of lightning struck out to plow Arclight through a sewer wall. It also brought part of the tunnel down. Storm swore a feverent thanks to the Bright Lady, when all of the children seemed to be on this side of the cave in, and she quickly sent them running back towards the mansion.

Then she noticed Thunderbird, as he was limping back slowly. He showed cuts and bullet wounds, but there was no sign of the man he'd been fighting.

"Cave in." Thunderbird explained to her.

"Can you still run?" She asked eying his wounds, but he grimaced and nodded.

"Faster then you can, Wind Rider. Faster then you can." He smiled a grim smile of the Apache warrior she knew he was, and she returned it, and together they made down the other tunnel branch from the rumble filled and caved in tunnel portion.

* * *

"Who the hell were those people?" Arclight grimaced, rubbing at her aching body. That last blast had well and truly hurt her, but she wasn't out of the fight yet. Scalphunter however, was totally unhurt. He just shook his head at her. She should've expected it, he was truly the most lethal of the Marauders. The best, the scariest, and the one everyone underestimated because he didn't have powers that were so visible as others.

"X-men. Xavier's brats. Sinister warned me they might intervene if any of these little lambs got out and got word to them, or if the psi baffles and Gambit's static didn't stop Xavier from sensing the massacre."

"So now what?"

"More people to kill." He shrugged.

* * *

"Och, this is a mess laddie."

"Yes. Yes it is Sean." Brian Braddock responded to the older man, as they both flew through the tunnels. They hadn't encountered anyone alive yet. Friendly or hostile. Yet they hadn't seen any bodies yet either, that was promising. He hoped.

His hopes were dashed, not moments later. They saw the explosion, before they heard the screams. The explosion, and the tunnel shaking from something definitely not an explosion. The English Icon and the Irish screamer flew faster, into the long corridor called the alley that ran for most of the tunnels the Morlocks called their own. The central area.

What they saw made both men faces go with. A large inuit man hefted a harpoon from the case of them on his back, the weapon began to glow, and he threw it at one of the running Morlocks. Even as Sean moved to interpose or stop it, both men had other problems to face. A huge brute of a man came barreling at both of them, knocking each into a wall.

Brian grasped Sean as they were hurled, taking the impact against the wall to save his friend the pain, beyond momentum against Brian's super dense skin and costume. "Handle the guy with Harpoons." Brian demanded, and then was flying straight at the bulking man.

Their impact shook the tunnels at that much force being met, yet it barely knocked Blockbuster back as he laughed. "That the best you have, Limey? You're going to have to do much better." A faint german accent on the large man, as Brian moved forward to attack again.

"SONOFA--!!" A strangled cry escaped from the large inuit man, Brian assumed. Mostly because he'd heard Sean's scream just before that cry. A momentary turn of his eyes revealed Harpoon was nursing his hand, Sean had likely sonically detonated that explosive harpoon before the man had a chance to throw it.

Then his attention was back on punching Blockbuster in the face. This was going to be a hard won fight, Brian realized. While their blows hurt eachother, Brian realized they were both too strong, too dense, for this fight to not take a significant amount of time. Time they didn't have.

Yet from the sounds he heard – Banshee's scream rising, and Harpoon's sizzling weapons, occasional explosions and shouts – he heard screams from Morlock's in the distance as well – he knew there were no choices left.

They traded blows like titans, blows that could shatter 3" thick plate steel, and each man came back to give the other another dose of the medicine they'd just received. How long they traded blows, Brian wasn't sure, before Blockbuster's balance was thrown off – bleeding Ear's he noticed. Sean. At the same moment Brian darted up into the air, anticipating what Sean would do.

He wasn't wrong, as Sean's sonic scream ripped into Blockbuster from behind, and then Brian flew down, and threw all of his strength into both fists. Two massive attacks within seconds, combined with the damage to his ear drums and equilbrium felled Blockbuster. More then felled, knocked him into the channel of sewage that ran down the midle of the alley.

Looking up, he saw that Sean was rubbing the side of his costume that looked a little charred.

"Got a little closer to me than I'd have liked laddie, but I'm alright. We got people to be saving."

Then Brian saw what had happened to Harpoon. A collapsing of the tunnels ceiling on him, it looked like. He nodded to Sean, and they both spun to fly on, into the fray.

* * *

Jean Grey had been through medical school. She'd worked with cadavers. She'd even done a year at an Emergency Room, to better her skills. Yet even all of that had never prepared her for what she was seeing as her and Scott ran down hall ways. Her lovers mind was like cool ice over their psychic rapport. She was sure she felt much the same, some of the Morlocks they'd run across.. what had been done to them was inhuman. They'd been running for what seemed like eternity now, and outside of very few survivors, they'd seen almost no living souls.

_I hope the others are finding more survivors, Scott. _

_I'm sure they are, Jean. I'm sure they are. We just picked the worst corridors. Do you sense anyone ahead of us?_

_There's too much static, Scott. My telepathy is almost useless down here. There's too much death, pain, and that weird static. I don't dare open my mind outside of our rapport, Slim._

_Noted, Red. Noted. Get those TK shields ready, there's movement up ahead of us registering on my visors systems._

That was Scott Summers for you, the redhead thought. He was terrified, chilled to his soul, and he could still bark orders and think like a master tactician in a bad situation. Charles Xavier was the man behind the Dream, but Scott, her little boyscout, was the dream's living embodiment. A teacher, a car mechanic, a pragmatic man who took a dream he'd heard as a 15 year old, and just incorporated it into his life. She didn't think he even realized how much of an influence he really had on those around him. All he saw was the surface of things, and peoples dislike of his stern authority.

She sent a surge of love through the rapport, as they burst into another section of tunnels, his warning for TK shields was all that kept them from being impaled by hundreds of hurrcane wind gusted pieces of.. she didn't know what they were, being flung from the man who spinned in a whirl wind, but none of them penetrated her shield.

In the time it took for the hail to let up and a look of shock to cover the mans face, she'd opened a hole for Scott to blast the whirl wind man right into a wall with those ruby beams of force, and already his head was swivelling to hit the next man.

He looked like he was made from Crystal. Not that they had time to admire, the whirl wind man was already getting back up and spinning again, and as Scott's beam arced from his visor, she threw the shield back up around them to deflect the hail of projectiles.

What she, and Scott, were not expecting, was when the ruby beam hit Prism, it seemed to go into him, sending him back ten feet from impact, but he was laughing, and then it came right back out aimed at them. The impact slammed into her shields. Jean was one of the most powerful telekinetics on the planet, but the impact of hundreds of high velocity projectiles, combined with one of her dear beloveds optic blasts reflected back into her shields. Collapsed them and send her sprawling to the ground, as Scott leaped over her, wrapped an arm around her, and rolled them out of the hail of projectiles path.

_Jean, you'll have to take out the crystal man. I'll take out our projectile shooting friend. _

_I'm on it. Next time, leave reflective people to me from the beginning, dearest heart._

_Yeah yeah, it was a rookie mistake, I'll give myself detention later, Red._

As they came out of their roll, Scott fired a series of optic blasts. A number of those projectiles shattering in the air, as Jean knew he was doing rapid fire blasts, his aim aided by the computer systems in his visor. It was all a shock and awe move, she knew, from the rapport. He was pulling Riptide's attention to the fact Scott was deflecting his attacks, and when he least expected it, another one of those ruby beams laced right for Riptide's body.

Which of course, was probably preferable to what was happening to Prism, when she just lifted him into the air telekinetically. No smirk on her lips at how easily she made him completely unable to counter attack. Not after what she'd seen of these two's handiwork. A hard yank of her telekinetic hold, slamming Prism into a wall.

The unexpected happened then, and a cracking sound rang in the corridor. Prism.. shattered.

_OhmygodScott I think I killed him! Scott!_

Scott was cursing, verbally, as Riptide swirled down a corridor faster then he could actually blast the man-thing. He was sure he'd hit Riptide that second time, but the man didn't seem to be too badly hurt. Then his gaze swept to Prism, Jean's shocked expression, and his arms wrapped around her.

"It's alright Jean. It's alright. Come on, we can't stay here. The other one got away, and the Morlocks aren't safe. They did far worse to the Morlocks." His tone was hard, he was doing his Leader voice on her, and she hugged him so hard she almost felt his ribs creak, and stole a kiss before nodding.

She knew. Knew.. If any other X-man had killed someone, even accidentally, there would be hell to pay. But Scott was bonded to her, he knew that hadn't been her intention, that accident happened. That she needed him to be strong right now. Her time to be strong for him would come later, she knew. In the night – if they suvived this, when he would beat himself up over the failures at protecting the Morlocks.

As they began to run once again, was when she noticed he was injured. A series of rips in his leather uniform with small amounts of blood trickling at them. He hadn't got all of those projectiles before they got him after all.

* * *

"Och Charles, what's the count at now?" Moira MacTaggert demanded of her old friend, as she moved from makeshift hospital bed to make shift bed in the Gym that'd been converted into medical facilities. The real medical facilities were already full.

Medical tables laid out, some just blankets on the floor for the less injured. Charles wheeled from place to place, looking grimmer each second.

"19 in critical condition Moira, if we're lucky, they might survive. 16 in with serious injuries, and 12 with minor injuries, or 'walking wounded' status."

"... That can't be right, Charles. There were well over 350 Morlocks!" Moira looked as if she was about to bite his head off, or turn around and stalk into those tunnels to kill the murderers herself. Instead she stalked off to the seriously injured, to tend the wounded to the best of her ability that she could.

Charles gave a start, to feel a large hand on his shoulder. A blue furred hand, as Hank McCoy looked down on him. "We have to focus on the living, Charles. We can still save them, but not if we dwell on the dead. If Healer is amongst the survivors, the chance for recovery of the critical cases will improve drastically..."

Hank trailed off, and Charles nodded. "I can't find him, Hank. I can't find any of them down in that chaos."

"We do what we can, old friend. We do what we can. Our lot is not to ask why. We have people to save." Pushing Charles chair back to those in need of Surgery, Hank had to force himself not to break down as he'd seen both Charles and Moira do twice now.

"I'm afraid, Hank. There hasn't been another survivor showing up at the tunnels for over fifteen minutes now, and no word from the X-men..."

"Trust in them, as they trust in you Charles. We can do no more."

* * *

Gambit was not having a good day. A group of children ran ahead of him, while he constantly was darting ahead or dropping behind them, to fight off the team he himself had lead down into these tunnels.

_Curse dat bastard Essex. He knew. He knew. Fck him!_

He felt the approach from behind. He'd long since run out of throwing spikes. The favored weapon against Creed, because of the larger amounts of damage they inflicted by digging into him before exploding. Yet they were all gone. All he had left was cards, his staff, and a bag of marbles he'd lifted amongst scattered possessions while saving a child.

"Keep moving pettites!" Remy shouted to them, as he timed it, waited, and spun around with his Staff with a surprise for Creed. He hadn't shown this trick to Sabretooth just yet, as his Staff impacted against Creed, it exploded, sending Sabretooth yards down the tunnel smoking, while his Staff just wisped a bit of smoke.

_T'ank you for dis poppa._ Without the adamantium staff, he wasn't sure how he could possibly get these kids out of here. Not at the rate his weapons were rapidly diminishing.

"Heh. Nice try Gumbo. That ain't gonna stop me. Nothing you got could stop me on your best day, cajun. Admit it, yer screwed." Sabretooths snarled at him, and Gambit almost nodded. It wasn't looking good. Already he could feel the numerous wounds along his body, his powers slowing their drain on him, but how much could he take?

It was time to settle Victor Creed. Or die trying. It might by the little ones time to escape, at least. He was fairly certain all the Marauders were still behind him too, instead of ahead of the kids. Yes. He would save them, even if it cost him his life.

"Bring it, Creed. It long since time t'settle dis between us."

Snarling both men leapt at eachother, claws meeting staff. A metallic boot meeting Creed's crotch. The snarl ellicited was only a momentary boon to his ego, as Creed latched a hold of the staff and whipped Gambit into the tunnel wall. The impact was dizzyng. Creed was a lot stronger then he was, but Remy just laughed at him as that rush of energy filled him.

"Yeah, dat right Creed." He said, when the man stepped back, at the bright glow of Gambit's eyes. "YOU de one who be screwed." Hurling himself off the wall, Gambit moved the way the Guild had trained him, that Sinister had trained him. He moved like lightning, expending kinetic energy just slightly faster then he was absorbing it from the movements or reverberations that coursed back along his staff as he struck the other man.

Strike. Move. Dance aside. Strike. Move. Jump. Piss him off, get him howling. That's what the cajun needed. It wasn't about doing damage, it was about frustrations. He knew what would come. He'd seen it often enough.

As seconds drug out as he danced the tunnels with his bo-staff, neatly avoiding all of Creed's attacks, and scoring numerous with his own, Creed began to growl. And then it was howling. Berserker Rage, Gambit knew. It was his only chance at Victory though. Creed was dumb, but he had an animal cunning in a fight. Except he lost that rational when he berserkered.

He forgot things. Like the fact that Remy LeBeau's primary weapon was not the adamantium bo-staff. As Creed launched himself at LeBeau, Gambit reminded him of the fact by darting to the side, and stuffing the whole bag of marbles down his throat.

It was a move not without costs though. Even as he sailed through the air away, Creed's claws raked across his stomach, ripping armor like cloth, and giving him a real wound. As Remy landed with a thud and kept rolling across the tunnels, he nodded as he knew what was about to happen, and shielded himself.

As Creed's torso seemed to explode, as those kinetically charged marbles went off.

Standing slowly, he had to use the staff, Remy hobbled forward. Leaving Creed's smoking body behind him. He wasn't dead, Gambit knew that. He also knew he didn't have the strength to actually kill Creed, not now. He could feel his body fighting just to keep him moving. Each step helped reinforce the kinetic energies that were coursing through him, trying to repair his wounds, that were keeping him from blacking out.

Ahead, he couldn't see the petites. They'd ran like he told them too. Further down, a lot further, he could see a pair of teenagers guarding a corridor, and saw the last of the little ones going through that tunnel. Safety then, if those teens were guarding it. But he didn't dare approach, not with what he'd done here.

He hobbled down another corridor, using his staff almost as a cane as he went.

_I saved as many as I could. It wasn't enough. Eight lil'uns, an five in de group before dis. How many died t'night cuz of me? Cuz I assembled dis team? Cuz I worked for Sinister? Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Bella. I failed. I failed everyone._

He'd done what he could, and was in no shape to help any more. Now all he could do was escape. Escape and hope the Marauders didn't catch up to him before he was healed.

* * *

Chasing after the Marauding murderers was proving to be a exercise in restraint, and the deeper into the tunnels they went, the more Storm felt her claustrophobia rising. Felt the walls pressing in on her. Saw the corpses of the Morlocks. They'd reached the Alley, the Central part of the tunnels, and battle raged up and down it. In the distance, she could see Scott and Jean paired off against a whirl wind of a man, shooting spikes all around and somehow not falling right away to the experienced duo.

Down the other side of the alley, she could make out Captain Britian and Banshee advancing on a man who seemed more interested in posing, and looking pompous then fighting. Odd, that. There was little time to dwell on the fact though, when a woman with green hair stepped into the Alley from the other direction, extended her hands and...

She saw others beginning to drop, and then felt that power hitting her itself. Naseua, as the world began to spin around her, and she felt herself falling to the ground. Nothing would focus, and the spinning world made it feel even more like the tunnels were going to collapse in on her.

"**Nooooooooo!"**

She wasn't the only one to scream, but hers was the loudest, and the only one accompanied by wind gusting at the ceilings, as if trying to make it stay there by the force of the wind.

* * *

Thunderbird saw it as Ororo started to go down, as Banshee and Brian began to go down just like Ororo had, she hadn't focused on Jean or Scott yet, but he knew it was just a matter of seconds. For some reason her waves hadn't effected him as badly, perhaps because he could run faster then normal humans could, and it was slower to work on him?

It didn't matter, he was across the Alley in a flash, running as if his life depended on it. More then his life depended on it. He couldn't leave his team mates at the mercy of these murderers while vertigo and nasuea overtook them.

The Apache never gave a second thought to her having reinforcements, as he sped across the distance before she could scream, his massive arms in front of him like he intended to tackle her. Which he did, the pale skinned green haired woman was impacted by his massive arms, and they sailed through the air. Slamming into the tunnel walls, he heard numerous cracks from her body, and now she was screaming.

Thunderbird never had a chance to see if the others were recovering. A rifle sounded. _Oh no.._His fears were ill founded, it was not aimed at his fellows. Instead the round took him in the back of the head, exiting his skull and taking out Vertigo too.

Scalphunter just nodded. An Apache deserved to die in battle, and Vertigo couldn't be healed from that kind of damage. Two birds, one stone.

* * *

The world came back into focus, even as she saw what happened to Thunderbird, and another scream bellowed from her throat. Lightnings crackled with fury towards the source of that gunfire, obliterating tunnel walls in her wrath for the target.

Never before had the X-men had a casualty in the field. Never. Now they had. There could be no more. "No more!" She hadn't even realized she'd shouted it, but the other X-men looked astonished, before they recovered in their own fights.

Her lightnings had not found their target, clearly, when a muzzle flared further in the alley, and a bullet ricochetted off Jean's invisible force fields. Storm couldn't worry about them though, the purple haired woman was coming forward now.

"Payback time, Wind Rider." She sneered and unleashed blasts of seismic force – not at her, but at the ceiling.

Storm raged. They were going to try and trap her? After daring what they dared? They killed her people, the Morlocks. They killed her team mates. They washed the tunnels in blood, and they dared this now too?

Lightning and wind flared from her hands like never before, never before had an enemy awoken the angry wrathful goddess that hid within Storm. Debris exploded and were pushed aside before they ever reached her, and the disbelieving look on Arclight's face was met with more lightnings.

Her earlier thunderbolts were like the jolt of a car battery in comparison, now that she new her opponent could stand such. Lightling filled the Alley like a strobe light, crashing into Arclight. It stopped only when she realized the woman had quit moving, but was still breathing.

_That should do._

With that handled, Storm flew down the Alley, towards Jean and Scott. They were being hard pressed by the duo of Scalphunter and Riptide, but Storm saw the third threat before the other two were even aware of it. Lightning leapt from her hand, and hurricane force winds trailed behind it, as electricity sizzled into the Inuit man, shocking him to his core, exploding the harpoon he'd been about to hurl, and then slamming him far down the tunnels.

In the shock of Harpoon's team-mates, Jean and Scott struck. Jean telekinetically shifting attention to Riptide while he was distracted, slamming him repeatedly into a wall until the swirling about him stopped, while Scott unleashed flares of that ruby force at Scalphunter. That there were numerous surprised Storm. Scott rarely ever missed, but when they stopped, she only assumed he'd hit his target, because there was no one left to assault who wasn't already down.

Turning her head, she took in the battle down the Alley. Brian and Sean had downed the posing man, and were teaming up on a large brute of a man. Even together, even with him moving slower, it seemed as if he was an even match for them.

"Scott! Blast him!" Ororo was surprised to find it wasn't her voice that demanded it, but Jean's. Likely for the others benefit, as Brian swerved out of the way, and Scott's optic blast lanced down the alley, impacting Blockbuster with tons of force at the same time Sean screamed once more.

Yet even as Blockbuster began to go down, Scott's blast reflected off a piece of his armor, impacting into the ceiling...

"Everyone out!" Was screamed from throats, as X-men darted down tunnels for safety from the impending collapse.

* * *

Hours later, Storm stared futiley out the window of the kitchen that the X-men sat around.

"His brother will come for his body, to see that the proper funeral rites are observed for him back home." Her voice felt empty, as she stared. Empty. So many dead. So many wounded. Oh Bright Lady, how could the world be so cruel? How?

"What of the .. Marauders?" Her tone stayed cool. She must keep calm. Already the sky was gray, and a drizzle fell upon the ground. Tears that she could not shed. Not before her friends. The Goddess must remain strong.

"We weren't able to recover any of their bodies, but we found .. leftovers.. of Sabretooth. Whoever tangled with Creed was none to gentle."

Scott sighed, looking at Sean. None of them needed to be reminded of what they'd seen leaving the tunnels. "We don't know enough. We have to assume they escaped, or were at least carried off by one of their number."

The door to the kitchen opened, as Charles Xavier rolled into the kitchen, his chair pushed by Henry McCoy. "You did better then we could have hoped. The day was a tragedy, perhaps the darkest ever in the blossoming history of mutant kind. Yet you proved a light in the darkness. Almost 80 of the Morlocks will survive because of you. How those last few packs of children managed to get here, I'll never know. They only said an angel protected them from what I surmise to be Sabretooth."

"A mystery for the future, but we cannot dwell. The students are terrified, the Morlocks need more care then Moira and I can provide. We must mourn when we can, my friends. The living must be tended to."

Hank nodded at Charles words, and waited to see how the X-men would react. Storm could read the surprise on his face, as she watched him looking over the X-men. Surprised at the way the wildly different group rose, nodded, and set to work.

It didn't surprise Ororo. They were X-men, and they were used to the world – it felt like the world anyway – resting on their shoulders. As she strode through the kitchen to go tend to the Morlocks, the clouds parted for sun to shine.

An angel in the tunnels? She'd seen no Angel, but she'd heard a pink skinned young girl named Sarah saying that very thing. An Angel with red on black eyes, and a face so beautiful it had made her want to cry for had saved them from the bad man with claws and teeth.

_Maybe the Bright Lady was watching out for some of us, today._

_--_

"You failed the mission parameters, Scalphunter." Sinister's tone was cold, as he stood upon the control platform of his labs, looking down at Scalphunter.

"The vast majority of the Morlocks were exterminated, Sir." He was allowed some leeway, now that Gambit was gone. Now he was allowed to call Sinister sir instead of master. Stupid cajun, he should've ran when he had the chance. Scalphunter feared, feared very much Essex was going to send them after the cajun. He wasn't sure he could bring himself to kill LeBeau. The man was his friend, and unlike the others, he hadn't conned Grey Crow into joining with Sinister. He'd done it willingly, knowing full well what it would entail.

He knew the others wouldn't feel the same. He highly doubted Vertigo would, as he eyed the clone-tank where her body was almost finished being grown. Probably at the memory transference stage. She'd emerge either deeply in love with Gambit, or so hateful it would be funny, depending on Sinister's whims.

"This is true. You also eliminated one of the X-men. I did not expect that. You also allowed Gambit to escape." Those words hung the air. He had no idea how Sinister meant that. Good? Bad?

"Yes, Sir."

"That is to my liking. Remy LeBeau is far too valuable to kill. You will not go after him. In fact, all of the new clones of your companions will be hard wired to be unable to kill him." Sinister's voice never changed, but the statement of Remy being that valuable skilled Scalphunter.

That Sinister was going to hardwire it into the new clones, that was.. Sinister never had done that before. Even with his fascination with Scott Summers, he didn't bother such hard wiring. What had Remy gotten himself into, and why was he so important to Sinister? Scalphunter wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"You may go, Scalphunter. You may inform Arclight of my orders regarding LeBeau." It was a rebuke, Scalphunter knew. That he'd only saved Arclight. Well, and Creed, but Sinister had punished Creed for daring to take his punishment with Gambit further then he'd wanted.

Then, Scalphunter almost envied Creed. It wasn't the real one who died. Just a clone. Why Sinister had bothered having Gambit recruit a clone, Scalphunter would never know. If he had to guess, Essex had probably warned the real Creed to stay away from Gambit. Sinister didn't think like others did. Yet then, why envy Creed? He probably didn't even realize he had a clone enslaved to the will of another.

Why all the protection of Gambit though? He knew of another warning off. He'd done the warning, him, Arclight, and Blockbuster. Their little visit with Candra had been almost fun. Until she'd killed Blockbuster by rupturing his heart, and Sinister himself appeared. That had put the fear into the blond woman though. He doubted Remy'd have problems from her again.

_Run far and fast, and become a lot stronger then you are now kid. Being protected by Sinister isn't much better then being hunted by Sinister._

* * *

**Authors note**: For those of you not aware, Brian Braddock is Captain Britian. The equivalent roughly of Captain America for England. Banshee is an old X-man, with as his name implies, a sonic scream. Thunderbird (John Proudstar), was an X-man who died early in the comics, the brother of Warpath. Superstrength and speed.

And that's my movie-version of the Mutant Massacre. This story is set Prior to X1. Next up, Gambit's Wandering years.


	11. Land of the Rising Sun

Six months, he'd been on the run now. Running, running, running. Always looking over his shoulder, trusting no one. It'd taken even his remarkable immune system three weeks to heal from all of the damage he'd sustained in those damned tunnels. An ordinary person would have died. He'd stumbled out of the tunnels, somewhere close to New York. A bit of charm, and he'd conned a woman into nursing him. He'd only stayed with her two days, while his wounds healed enough to travel.

Then it was into Canada, not a place he'd be expected to go. He'd healed there. Once healed up, he'd hopped the first flight he could find. Somewhere not his stomping grounds.. he went to Italy. He'd spen a few weeks in Italy, freshly healed and still as haunted as the day in the tunnels. He couldn't get it out of his head. It haunted him.

He stole like a madman. Heists the Thieves Guild would never have dared to make, and every one of them a stolen piece. Museums, private collections, rich or poor, it didn't matter. He stole anything ill-gotten from the hands of those who'd acquired such things. He didn't line his pockets with the money, either. He couldn't. Not much anyway. He had to survive, had to have a stash for what was after him if he needed the resources.

So he'd split his 'earnings' fifty fifty. Half went into his various accounts for rainy days, and half he gave to the down trodden. To the homeless, the poor, the sick. Some went to actual charities, but a good bit of it went directly to the people he encountered in need.

He'd been surprised during his stay in Poland, four months after he'd started his mad dash across Europe, to find that the reputation of Gambit was spreading. The criminal circuits whispered with respect and fear of a thief who must be more a ghost then a man. No one ever saw him, or even caught a whiff of his passing. He blew in like a breeze, availed of himself of whatever he set his eyes upon. That was what they feared, feared that they themselves might become a target to this Gambit, a Thief who no one but the honest were safe from.

Well, the Honest and the Guild, but they hadn't figured that out yet. He wouldn't steal from his own Guild, exiled or not. Then there was the touch of respect, that made him want to weep or laugh. This Gambit was a modern day Robin Hood, he took from the rich and gave to the poor. He sweeped in to a city, saved Damsels from distress, helped the benighted, and vanished just as he'd come.

He laughed every time he heard the whispers and the stories in the bars he'd frequent in each city. They didn't understand. They didn't understand at all. They were turning him into a folk hero, whispering of him as if he was a living legend, a Hero, when all he was was a pathetic wretch who could steal anything. A wretch that no matter how many good deeds he piled up under his belt, he'd never earn salvation. Redemption would be forever beyond his grasp, for what he'd done.

Yet with each country, each city, his fame grew. When people spoke of the best thieves in the world, the elusive Gambit was listed as the best. The greatest irony for Remy though, was the fact Remy LeBeau was rated as the third best, just behind Jean-Luc LeBeau. No one had realized that the cajun was one and the same as _The Gambit_.

An idea he fostered, as he slipped across the length and breadth of Europe. He changed identities every time he crossed a border. He changed accents just as often. While he thought in his native cajun tongue, he found it was time to speak like someone else. It might keep him alive. Every once in a while, he'd pop up somewhere luxurious and use his real name. A week in the Bahamas. At High Holidays in Rio. Anything he could do to sow confusion.

Anything to keep Sinister five steps behind him.

Yet as the months wore on, he began to suspect Sinister was just waiting to get him at a time of his choosing. But he had no reason to stop. No where to go. There wasn't a person in the world he could turn to. Oh, his Family would try to help, but it'd just endanger them, and he would not bring Sinister down upon them. He checked in with them every few weeks to make sure no one got attacked by Essex, but otherwise he shared nothing.

Jean-Luc was worried silly about him. Henri was frantic with fear. He'd told them he was Gambit, and to keep it close to their chests. That just made them worry even more, when they began to piece together the insane heists he'd been pulling off to him. They'd suspected, but confirmation was another matter. Jean-Luc admonished him that Tante was ready to come to Europe her own self, and track him down and drag him back by the ear, and beat some sense into her.

The image still got a smile out of him, whenever he considered it. At least someone cared for him. But he couldn't tell them the real truth. They'd disown him, and he couldn't bear that last loss. So he travelled, and stayed alone.

And that was how he came to the Land of the Rising Sun, in the sixth month of his Gambit World Tour.

* * *

The plane reverberated lightly as it touched down upon tarmac. Gambit just sighed, and stared out the window at Tokyo. A large city, one he'd stick out in as an outsider. Yet he hadn't hit Japan yet, and it was that time now. Besides, he'd always liked sake.

He smiled at the stewardesses as he disembarked from the plane, but not the seductive smile. That hadn't crossed his lips in months. No one had shared his bed, he'd known only solitude. It was a self imposed punishment. He knew how he was drawn to touch, to caress, to feel. To bask in the glow of another. He was a social creature, even with his empathy often being a hindrance as much as a boon.

He reclaimed his bags at the baggage carousel, then went out to find a cab. An hour later, he'd dropped his things into a rented apartment. The weather was chill enough to warrant his coat, and he didn't bother with sunglasses – vanity contact lenses hid his eyes from the world. They stung at his eyes, but they let him pass for normal.

And that was how he ended up in the dingy bar in Tokyo's less savory element. He didn't want to deal with business men, or anything else of the like. So he enjoyed some sake, a platter of fried vegtables and fish, and just let the current of the room sweep around him.

What he had not expected of course, was a table mate. About a half hour after he chose his seat, a dark haired native dropped into the seat across from him, smiled a devil may care smile at him, and waved at a server to bring more sake for the two of them.

"Looking good, Gaijin." Dark brown eyes slipped over him, weighting him. He felt the urge to withdraw into himself. He could feel her curiosity stirring in her. More, she was pure poison to him as he was now. She reminded him of himself, before so much had gone wrong. A free spirit, who threw their life into the wind on just a chance. Pure poison. Especially when he could already feel a rising lust in the woman.

"This is looking good? I thought I looked like a jet lagged over travelled college student too poor to drink or eat in a respectable establishment?" He felt himself answering with a touch of humor in his tone. Yup, pure poison. Her emotions were rubbing off on him, pulling at him. After what happened in the Marauders, he didn't want to use his powers the way he had. Not unless he had too. He could deflect her through just conversation, with some time.

"Gaijin, if you're jet lagged and this is what you look like as a mess, you must be pretty enough to give the so-called Prince of Thieves a run for his money on a good day." She was chortling as if she'd made the best joke in the world, and Remy felt himself staring at her confused.

"Who?"

"The Prince of Thieves. Son of the Patriarch of the Thieves Guild of New Orleans. There's a Guild branch here in Tokyo you know. Secretive lot, but outside of one or two individuals, it's where all the really skilled thieves are. No, I see you're still confused. The so called 'Prince' is supposed to be one of the hottest guys alive. That's what the girls in the Guild branch here say, anyway, when they saw him at a Guild gathering a few years back." She was grinning in a way that was unsettling him.

"So what you're saying is that I'm gorgeous and you want to sleep with me?" Might as well try being forward, right?

"Bingo, Gaijin. Hole in one, even. You're easy on the eyes, and from what I saw of when you came in, you have a pretty good body under that coat. You seem to know a little bit about the world too. You've clearly never been in Japan before, the way you dress, but you've listened in here, cased the point like someone who's done a job or two. So how about it, you share my pallet for a while, and I'll teach you how to be a real thief?"

Her smile was almost dazzling, but Remy had to fight down the indignant voices screaming in his head. Here she was mocking him, putting him down, while he was currently the most famed thief in the world. He'd even heard his name here in the bar! His poker face held though, none of the indignity showed.

"So, I sleep with you – how I know you're any good as a thief by the way – and you teach me huh?"

"Oh yeah. I think it's a totally fair deal, don't you?"

He couldn't hold back the laughter, and he set his hand on the table to grasp the sake and down some it.

So you got a name, oh glorious lady of thieves? She looked startled when he switched to her native Tongue, and then nodded. Of course he understood Japanese, if he'd been listening so intently to everything around him. He could read that thought clear on her face, and just a tint of blush at her cheeks.

I'm called Yukio. I should warn you, I am a Ronin.

That got a startled noise out of Gambit. Not because he was really surprised, but because if she thought he was a novice, he might as well play along. He'd surmised as much by the way she moved. Graceful, like a cat. She definitely knew martial arts at the very least, and likely carried as many concealed weapons on her as she did.

He wanted to slap himself, when he realized he was thinking about how fun it might be to search her to find out just where and how many of those concealed weapons she might have on her. He was punishing himself. He wasn't allowed to have a woman. Especially not a woman who was smiling with a smile that promised pleasure as good as he'd find anywhere else on God's Green Earth.

There was one problem. She'd see through a fake name in short order. He had a feeling she already suspected who he was, the way she'd kept bringing up the Guilds. So he could either be Remy LeBeau while he was in Japan, or he could be Gambit. If there was a guild Branch, and people who knew his image..

I should be afraid that you are a Ronin? The problems incurred on you are your own, unless you intend to take me on as a student? An arched eyebrow at her.

To which she laughed and grinned merrily. A man who understands. That's rare. So you have a name, pretty boy?

Remy smiled. Let's see if she sputtered. He toyed with his fork a little, drawing out as if he was debating which of a dozen aliases to tell her – any thief had at least that many ready at any given time. When she reached for her sake and began to drink, he spoke.

"Remy LeBeau at y'service."

The reaction was him getting her spit and sake in his face, and she started laughing nervously, before going a bright crimson. "Ohmy. I just.. you.. I mean.. uhm.. no insult?"

Remy just laughed, and reached a hand up, to crooke his finger in a beckoning motion to her. "No insult taken, chere. But it be interesting t'see if you can teach me anyt'ing after all. Know I'll be teaching ya a t'ing or fifty in de bedroom t'night."

She went even more crimson at that. Ah yes. He was beating her at her own game. Wait. No. He'd lost this game, because he was breaking his own punishment. _Damnit! Dis femme got me all kinds of off sorts. Why she tempting me so much? Ain't like she got a body the likes I ain't seen before. It's dat damn grin of hers. It's full of life..._

* * *

The rented apartment had proven unnecessary, but he kept it just in case. Five days later, he lay admist the white sheets, letting his fingers toy with Yukio's hair. She lay covered in sweat, and breathing heavily.

"Don't you _ever _get tired, LeBeau? I'm so sore I don't even want to think about sex again, and you're sitting there practically whistling dixie and ready to go again."

Remy just offered a grin to her, and kept playing with her dark hair. "Not really chere. Toldja I was a mutant, de eyes ya know? De more kinetic stuff going on around me, the more energy I get. An when a femme got as much energy as you, slamming ya hips like dat, I get a lotta energy indeed."

She punched him in the arm. "Bastard. You could've told me that before you challenged me to a no holds bar sex off. That is so cheating."

"Not my fault ya didn't ask earlier, an it ain't like I didn't tell ya fairly soon off dat I'm a mutant, eh?"

"It is your fault I'm sore. Ass. I'm not built like those huge Gaijin women you're used to, you big filthy foreigners have to be gentle with women like me." She was laughing harder then he was after she said that, and he just tapped her nose.

"Pft. You liked it, an don't even try ta tell me otherwise."

"Well, there is that. You cocky son of a bitch. Until I met you, every man I'd been with stammered that I'm the best they ever had. You don't even compliment me, or tell me I'm good. You're such a huge prick."

"Well yea, I do got a huge.. kinda why you complaining, chere. As for de compliments.." He shrugged, and lit a cigarette with the brush of his finger tip, and exhaled a smoke ring before continuing. ".. well. I see it like dis. Each time we have sex, I'm complimenting ya. I'm here each morning still, ain't I? Dat's a compliment in itself, Yukio. If de sex wasn't good, I wouldn't be staying around."

She snorted and poked him in the ribs. "Oh please, you're just hoping to learn what my next job is or get info from me for that Guild of yours, and I know it."

She was startled at the bitter laughter that escaped him. She'd seen him go mopey, disturbed, but never had he sounded that bitter. "Petite, I be banished from de Guild. I don' exactly go around spying on free agents for dem, when I ain't even welcome amongst 'em no more."

"Oh... but.. you're the son of the Patriarch.." She sounded so confused. At least that part of his history hadn't spread far and wide on the gossip vine. A small pleasure.

"Don't matter none. Exile be exile. Now, if ya too sore for more fun, den I win de contest, and I get to claim my prize..." He couldn't help smirking at her, as she shut her eyes and flushed in embarassment.

"You're serious? Right now?"

"Oiu. Right now."

"You just.. you're insufferable, LeBeau. I won't be able to walk at all!"

"A bet be a bet, Yukio. You gonna pony up, or I need ta find something else t'be doing for de rest of the day?"

"You could just sleep, you know. You haven't slept in over 24hrs..."

"Quit tryin to distract me."

"Fiiiiiiiiine. I hate you so much, Remy LeBeau." She was laughing when she said it, and as they both begun shifting on the bed, his hands running along her back.

"Sure ya do, chere. Ya wanna scare me, tell me ya love me. I be out of Japan before Nightfall." Chuckling, but the sound was soon replaced by very different kind of noises, from both of them.

* * *

The days passed in something approaching a bipolar holiday. There were ups, downs, arguments, spats, and an awful lot of sex. Yet Remy felt at ease with Yukio. If only because his empathy told him one thing for certain. She had nothing approaching love for him. Affection, friendliness, but none of the emotions he was so used to his lovers having towards him.

It was like a weight off his shoulders. Everyone who loved him came to ruin. If she had, he'd have been gone so fast she'd be left eating his dust. He couldn't afford to see that kind of ruin on any more innocents. At the same time, his play time with Yukio wasn't getting him any closer to atonement either.

Which lead him to an interesting discussion with Yukio, as they longued in her apartment in front of the TV, sipping rice beer. Him smoking a cigarette, and her twirling one of her slightly odd shaped shurikens between her fingers.

"Dis show such bullshit. Dat really what ya believe Yukio? Dat someone make a mistake, do something dishonorable, dat dey should just off demselves?"

She looked surprised at the question, eyed him specuatively for a few long moments, and then shrugged. "That depends, Remy. We're thieves. What we do isn't exactly honorable to begin with, and I'm a Ronin on top of that. We're not exactly regarded as having excess honor to begin with, except from other ronin. Or when it comes to a movie." Laughter then.

"Dat really ain't an answer, chere."

"It's not, but what can I tell you Remy? You won't believe the answer I would give you."

"Try me anyway."

Then she actually sighed, and gave him a look at his stubborn tone. Which he returned at her lack of answers. Maybe she was just grumpy he was pulling them into serious discussion time, instead of careless banter. She tended to not like the serious.

"Fine." A grimace crossing her lips. "Here's the deal, Remy. You're a good guy. In fact, you're an amazing guy, considering who you are. I expected a spoiled heir, an idiot, just a pretty face when you told me who you were. You're not. You're smart, you're in tune with people around you. I've seen you slipping money _into _peoples wallets, instead of out of them. You care. But you're one of those damned cursed people. You've had some bad things happen to you, that you thinks all your fault. I don't know what your mistakes are, and I don't care Remy. In my book? You don't need atonement. You're a good friend, a great screw, a master thief, and amazingly enough, not a bad drinking partner. See? I told you you wouldn't believe me."

His face must have shown his doubts, and he schooled it back to a light grin, before shrugging. "Dunno chere. Dere a lot you don't know."

"Maybe there is, but I'm right, LeBeau. You just won't accept that I'm right, or those words, until they come from someone you're in love with. It's written all over you, the way you move, the way you screw, you love sex, but you want love more."

Remy choked, and sputtered as he tried to clear his windpipe of having beer in it. "Uhh.. don't t'ink so."

"Rems, when we have sex you don't kiss me like a friend, and we never kiss at any other time. Even when we hang around, we both behave that way, because that's all we are. But in the bedroom, every kiss, every touch, everything about you just reverts to love. Oh, sometimes it's about the sex, but it's pretty rare. You're lucky I think you're a moron, or I'd probably have fallen for you." She was laughing at him, once again.

He sighed, and complied. "An jus' why ya t'ink I'm a moron?"

"Cuz you are. You'll see it yourself, some day. And I better get going, I have a job tonight. No sidekick action for you either, it's for someone who spies on the people he hires, and he hired me. Not me and you."

"Oh sure, I see how dis is. You mock me, den run off wit'out even giving up any of dat sweet ass before ya run?" She smirked when she stood up, turned around, and patted her rear, waggling it at him.

"Damn straight it is, Remy. See ya later!" She was still laughing when she walked out the door.

"Women..."

* * *

Good things of course, had to come to an end. It was the trademark of Remy LeBeau's life. With Yukio, it came the day she got a job to steal from the Guild branch. They'd argued for over two hours, and then had furious sex for an hour, before arguing even more.

It began their competition. Their days were spent sleeping, or together. Their nights spent stealing. Almost always competing for the same target, ever since he'd swiped the pinch she'd taken from the Guild from her while she was in the process of leaving the Guild. She'd never even noticed he took it, but he'd been cheating. Using powers and distractions were cheating. There'd been more angry sex after that, once she realized he'd thwarted her.

They settled into a pattern, he and Yukio. They never spoke to each other about stealing. It was off limits topic, now. No edge given to either, as they began to thwart each others pinches. They talked about sports, music, cars, weapons, anything and everything but the jobs. Yet every other night, sometimes every night in a week, they were in competition. He'd go for a job, and she'd try to beat him. She'd go for one, and he tried to beat her.

His time helping her prior to the competition had helped. She'd been good before he met her, now she was up there in the top five with him. If she had suspected he was 'Gambit' in the beginning, he'd have eat his own shoes. Now, he was fairly sure she suspected. At first she took the fact that he won over two thirds of the time in good humor. But when it became apparent that trend kept up, sometimes getting closer to fifty fifty, but usually hanging a good bit in his favor, she started to get a bit snappy.

But that wasn't the end of the good things. It came as they lay soaked in sweat after a particularly good bout of sex, him playing with her hair and smoking, while she traced symbols on his stomach. He stared at the ceiling, feeling fear in the pit of his stomach.

That time. That time. She'd cried his name during it all, and the emotions from her weren't just friendly affection anymore. _Oh .. damnit. Figures she one of dem psycho competitive freaks. She's falling for me cuz of dis. Mebbe it because I basically won our contest, and she can only love someone better den her? Shit, I don't understand it, but dat was _love_ dat I felt in her head. Christ, what I gonna do? I can't stay here no more._

"Yukio?" "Yeah Remy?" "Wanna go again?"

"Hmm. Give me maybe ten minutes? Still catching my breath, you filthy gaijin."

Remy just nodded. He'd get a plane ticket tomorrow, and go.. he didn't know where yet. Somewhere. Maybe Madripoor. Madripoor could work well. Lawless Madripoor, it'd fit his mood now.

* * *

While she'd slipped out to do some grocery shopping, Remy had packed his things, and headed to the airport to get out of dodge. He picked up his ticket from the reservation counter. She'd never heard him make the phone call, he knew. He'd be gone and safe from bringing ruin to yet another woman soon.

As he breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the entry into the terminal wings, he froze in step. Yukio was leaning against a pillar not twenty feet ahead of him, looking at him with wide eyes. Hurt eyes.

He wanted to turn around, avoid that hurt look. Her pain beat at him, and he sighed, walking forward to meet her. As he approached, he slipped a finger up, to press against her lips. To bid her silence for him to talk first. She bit him on the finger for it, but let him talk. All while those brown eyes stared into his soul, even with the contacts hiding his devils eyes once more.

"I'm not running _from_ you, Yukio. I'm running _for_ you. Ruin follows on my heels, an trouble won't leave me alone. Like a lost little puppy dog dat follows after me anywhere I go. Death an ruin are all dat ever comes to anyone dat loves me, or dat I dare t'love. I won't let dat happen to you. I can't let dat happen to you. One more innocent hurt cuz of me, and I'll break. I can't take it, Yukio. I can't."

The truth. The honest truth. He couldn't lie to her, she'd know. Hell, she suspected that much about him weeks ago he knew. Yet that was before she'd started to come to love him. How much of her would handle this logically? Illogically? Why wasn't she speaking, just staring at him with those brown eyes he could fall into.

Then she laughed, and his heart stopped feeling like it was clenched in a fist. "Remy... you think I'm innocent?"

He grinned back at her, and brushed a thumb along her cheek. "Not in de sense most use de word, but yeah chere, you are innocent. You're a free spirit, a thief, a scoundrel every bit as much as me. If we stayed t'gether, you'd lose dat. My life.. chere. De last two months here wit' you? Been amazing. You don't even know how much it means dat I was able to forget, at least partially, de shit dats lurking at my back."

"Then stay with me, and make a new life. I don't care about what's in the past, Remy. You don't care about mine. What does it matter? We can be happy."

"I can't, Yukio. Dere stuff. Bad stuff. I.." Remy sighed, and just leaned forward to kiss her. Letting his lips speak for him, and when he pulled back, they both gasped for breath. The look in her eyes as she gazed him was even more hurt now though, and her emotional pain laced through him as if someone electrocuted him.

"You love me too. Or you're starting too. Screw the past, cajun. We can have a _future_."

Remy hated to, he knew it'd break her heart, but he shook his head. "I can't chere. I don't got no future, not until I made some measure of atonement for what I done. Seeing dat look in ya eyes.. just makes even more dat I got to atone for." He looked down, then, he couldn't stand the sight of pain in her brown eyes that'd been so happy only last night. They'd been happy the whole time he'd known her since that first moment. Even when they fought, she'd been happy.

_Well, cepting when she having dat time of de month. Den she a raging bitch, but kinda expect dat from most femmes._

"I can't believe you. Whatever you did it can't be that bad, Remy. You're such a fucker. I should stab you, but I can't even bring myself to do that. I want to hate you, but all I can do is see the pain haunting you.. Go, Remy. Go. Maybe some day I'll be able to just hate you. As much as you want to, but don't want to be loved, you draw people to you Remy... you magnificent gaijin bastard. Get out of my country."

Her slap spun him around and left his head ringing, and echoed through most of the airport entry. By the time his vision cleared, she was long gone. He knew she was, he'd felt her leaving, but still.

Ruin. He always brought ruin.

"Ciao, Yukio." He whispered to the air, blew a kiss after her, and turned to find his terminal and his flight out of Japan. It was for the best that he be gone. It was for the best.

* * *

The flight had gnawed at him. He landed in Signapore, then took a boat to Madripoor. He was a flurry of emotions inside. Guilt was the strongest. Always the guilt. And the arguments on if he'd done the right thing came constantly.

Madripoor, the island of crime, was a break from the constant war within himself. He spent three weeks there. Often slightly drunk. He brawled, he got involved in debauchery with women left and right, and he tried to submerge himself, to forget Yukio.

Three weeks, he'd lived like a low life criminal. It was in that third week the owner of the Princess Bar had ruffled his hair, as he paid out money for property damages to her, and told him to get out of the country before he made enemies he couldn't just rough up in a bar.

Standing on the same boat that'd brought him to the island as it carried him away, her words replayed in his head.

"_Your a man that's running from something, Remy LeBeau. You're also hiding from fate. You need to be gone, and not come back until your head is back on your shoulders. Fate is out there waiting for you, and it sure as shit isn't on this damn island."_

He doubted she'd known how accurate those words were. Atonement was what he sought, and it wasn't to be found in Madripoor. In fact, he couldn't find it in the far corners of the world. It had to come from the hearth. He'd been too long without seeing Tante, without being in America.

"It's time to go home." He was almost as startled to hear his own laughter, as the few others on the boat were as they eyed him. He just flashed them a scoundrels grin, shrugged, and took a drag off his cigarette.

Five hours later, he was at an airport, and using a phone.

"Tante? It Remy."

"Remy boy, where are you? You got everyone worried sick here boy! You ain't called in months, but tha Japanese Branch contacted Jean-Luc and said ya were there until recently, and seemed to be okay. You better be okay childe."

"I'm okay Tante. I'm okay."

"Good, then you won't be too badly hurt when I take a piece out of your hide for worrying all of us like this."

"Love ya, Tante. Can ya pick me up at de airport?"

"You coming home?"

"Yeah Tante. I'm coming home."

"We be dere den Remy. Me, Jean-Luc, and Henri. All t'ree of us be dere."

He wondered why the world looked blurry. Then he realized it was because his eyes were watering up.

"I see you soon, Tante. Love ya."

"We all love ya too, ya dirty scoundrel, Remy LeBeau. See you soon."

_I'm going Home._


	12. Coming Home

The flight from Singapore to the States was long. Over half a day spent shuffling between planes, but it didn't matter. He watched movies, ate crappy airline food, and chatted with whoever ended up sitting next to him on the flights. There was a fire in his belly once again. He was going Home.

He felt the humid Louisiana air when he departed the flight in Baton Rouge. He couldn't fly into New Orleans, the pain of death still hung on his head if he crossed into his home town. But he could be in his home state, and when he departed through the terminals, wandering in a half haze as he slipped through the airport down to the baggage claim, he felt like his heart was going to burst.

No sooner had he stepped into the baggage claim area, then he had was nearly knocked over onto his ass, but strong arms clung to him, holding him tight. At first Remy was sure that it was Tante, who'd been over come with emotion. Surely it wasn't his Père or Henri. Definitely not. But when his eyes began to clear – it was the contacts that did this, he was sure of it. They stung at his overly sensitive eyes, offered no protection from that nasty light.. When his eyes cleared, he found it was Jean-Luc LeBeau, Patriarch of the Thieves Guild himself, clinging to his him as if he'd feared he'd never see Remy again.

As if realizing the show of emotion, Jean-Luc grinned, patted Remy's back, and released him, taking a step back. "Ya can't blame a man for worryin bout his son, Remy. It's good t'be seeing ya again. Ya filled out a lot in de last few years. Ya stronger da ever, tougher too. Bet ya give de gators in de swamps a run for dere money now, insteada just running from em eh?"

A wink from his old man at the light joke. Remy'd always had a more then slight fear of gators. A few close calls in his youth when exploring places he hadn't been supposed to explore had instilled that fear in him.

"Père..." He'd been about to quip back, but then there were arms around him again, squeezing him so hard he felt like his ribs should be creaking, and he felt tears against his coat collar. Henri LeBeau, crying? No.. That was impossible. Henri didn't cry, but sure enough, that was who cluched him. To his surprise it was Henri who poked him in the ribs.

"Not so hard ma petit frère." Embarassed, the brothers seperated. No sooner had Henri stepped aside, and another set of arms wrapped around him, and a warm bosom pressed against his chest. That was Mercy, pressing kisses against his cheek and feeling at him under his coat. Making sure he was all in one piece. That was his sister in law, for you. Woman would've chided him if she'd found he was missing parts, or if she felt he was too thin. Good cajun woman his brother had, there.

"Good ta see ya again, Rems. Ain't no one keeping Henri on his toes wit'out you round to give him grief." She had the decency to wink, as she stepped back and wrapped an arm around her husband.

It was then that Remy's ribs did creak. Jean-Luc was his Father, even if not by Birth, but if anyone could claim to be his mother, it would be Tante Mattie. The matronly woman squeezed him, and then gave him the same treatment as Mercy, only more in depth. Feeling at the muscles underneath his shirt, poking at his clothes to make sure there wasn't so much as a hole anywhere, and then she hrmph'd at him finding his lack of on his ribs to be adequate.

"Welcome Home, Remy." He wasn't sure which one of them had said it, he just knew it sent him into the water works, to the surprise of his family. The wrapped arms around him, got his luggage, and escorted him out of the car. All around the baggage claim, people watched and blinked away their own tears at seeing what was so obviously a family reunion of a lost family member. Military perhaps, the young man was fit. His hair wasn't too long to have precluded it. One young man even saluted the cajun, but Remy never noticed. He couldn't see a damn thing, and his spatial awareness was focused on his family.

A family that were sharing worried looks. Never before had Remy broken down into tears. Even in his exile, he'd raged or been quiet, but never broke down. He'd been in control at all times, master of the world. There was something vulnerable in their son/brother now, something that had each of those four pairs of eyes looking at each other with worry as they got him into the car and headed back to the large house they'd rented for the time being.

* * *

An hour later, Remy was in bed, sleeping the soundest sleep he had in a long time. He had his family to protect him. Sure, they weren't mutants, but Remy would've waged good money on Henri or Jean-Luc vs most mutants, and Mercy was a thief too, and a damn good one, and woe unto the man who screwed with his Tante. She knew voodoo. He'd never seen her do the bad stuff, but she knew the healing and visions, and there were whispers she'd done dark things in the past..

And they loved him. They worried about him. So emotions so strong it had overwhelmed him, broken his shields into smithereens in the airport, and took him for a ride down those deep torrents of love and concern like a man white water rafting down the Colorado River.

In short, out of all the people in the world he had to guard him, they were the four he'd have chosen.

While Remy slept, his family sat looking at each other in the parlor, sipping at coffee.

"I don't like dis. Ain't never seen dat kinda reaction from my son."

"Père ya know Remy's been doing a lot of crazy shit, de last fears. Den dat stuff with Candra.."

Both of the male LeBeau's sighed, while the women stared daggers at them.

"Was stupid of ya two to send him onto Candra, whatever ya were told. Ya know how dat woman be. How ya thought dat might be good for our boy.." Tante's disapproval rang with her voice, while Mercy just nodded. The two men wisely squirmed and were hesitant to say much.

"Remy always put everyone in the palm of his hand, Mattie. Figured he'd be safe, that he'd do the same." Jean-Luc said tiredly, his voice filled with tiredness and a touch of despair. They all knew how **that** had ended. Even if no one in the Guilds outside of the Four of them were aware of the real origin of Belladonna's death. A fact all four of them were sworn to never reveal to Remy.

"So what we gonna do wit' him?" That was Mercy, cutting straight to the point.

Silence reigned, coffee was sipped, before all eyes turned to Jean-Luc. The weight and responsibility falling onto the Master of the LeBeau family.

"We do what we always done. We love him. Remy needs t'know dat dere be love for him still. Needs ta know he got a family still. Dat boy needs it, an he needs ta be doing something. He ain't done well on his own. Candra, dat scientist he fell in wit', den dis craziness as Gambit.."

Mercy gasped at that name. Apparently Henri hadn't told his wife. "Remy's Gambit!?"

"Oui, chere. Dat my lil brother. Craziest sonna bitch t'ief in de world." Henri quickly stepped in, deflecting her attention by reminding his wife Remy needed love, not scolding for some of the insanity he'd perpetrated over the previous months.

Jean-Luc coughed. "As I was sayin.. De heists he been doing, de good deeds. Remy always had a hero complex, 'specially wit' de belle filles. But never dat much of one. He's trying ta make atonements for something, an it de only way he can figure out how to do it I bet. Den he spends two months in Japan, wit' free lance t'ief. A free lance Ronin t'ief none de less. De guild contacts dere were pretty detailed about dis Yukio. Dey were living together, got inta some kind of competition. Den Remy bolted. Gossip I managed to wrangle outta dem said Yukio put it off as Remy having duties t'de Guild, but a lil bit more snooping.. an dis Yukio been going a little crazy ever since he left."

Tante sighed. "He broke anot'er heart den, huh? Always warned dat boy about scorning women. She ain't gonna come after him, is she?"

All eyes turned back to Jean-Luc, who shook his head. "Non. She ain't dat type. She loved him, mebbe. She been in a horrible manic sulk since he left. Goes between crying, to fighting, to stealing, in hot flashes. But doesn't take no one t'her bed, which ain't like her de contact told me. Contact also said dey had dere good bye in an airport. Dey kissed, and not one of Remy's little blow off kisses either. So he cared bout her, to some extent."

All four were quiet, and voiced the same idea almost simultaneously.

"So he's running from something."

Except in Tante's case, it also appended "bad, afraid of love, and he's done something dat he thinks be horrible."

Four heads nodded.

Jean-Luc was the first to speak. "Alright den, we all agreed. Somet'in gotta be done. So here's what we gonna do..."

* * *

Remy'd slept clear through the evening, the night, and woke up while the sun was still struggling against the horizon. Which was to say, pretty damn early. Pulling on his faded black Saints shirt that was riddled with holes, a pair of shorts, he padded out of the room claimed as his own. He was quiet, but not too quiet in his movements. That'd make Jean-Luc or Henri get nervous if someone was too obviously sneaking around, and they were still asleep. So the snoring told him.

Yet the light in the kitchen was on. Tante? Nah, too early for Tante. Slipping in, he found Mercy standing at the stove making tea.

"Mornin, Mercy."

"Heya Remy. Looking good. Nice legs. You still wearing dat shirt? We gotta take you shopping honey, cuz dat shirt be looking like de moths got at it."

Remy just grinned at her, shrugging his shoulders. "What can I say? It's comfortable"

"Comfortable. Mhm. Dat what Henri be saying about his ratty old slippers, right up until I tossed dem in de garbage. He tried to fish 'em out, an I just about broke one of his fingers." She was giving him that warning look, and Remy shifted in his chair a little. She looked like she might well jump him and take his shirt and burn it in front of his eyes, just to prove his point.

"I get de idea Mercy. We get me a new one if we go shopping, yea?"

"You're a smart man, Remy LeBeau. A smart man indeed." She laughed, and poured two cups of tea, bringing one over to him. "So what's de plan, Rems?"

"Well. Not sure yet, Mercy. Right now, still just getting used ta being round ya all again. Spend a week or two wit' you all, I t'ink. After dat.. I dunno for sure yet. Figure I go back to playing Robin Hood along de gulf den up de coast."

"So in short, ya ain't got a clue? Typical man. Should never of let you off apron strings, Remy LeBeau. You're a dangerous man. Dem looks, dem eyes, dat smouldering sexuality dat just burns in de air around ya. If I wasn' married to ya brother, I jump ya here and now." She winked and laughed.

Remy wasn't entirely sure she wasn't lying. He didn't dare check with his empathy, because that was just a little on the creepy side. Besides, it'd been an effort to get his mental shields back up in place, and lowering them now was just asking for a repeat of what happened in the airport. Even with his shields up, he knew they were all worried about him.

"Well Mercy, ya an intelligent wise woman, why don'tcha tell me what a foolish young man like m'self ought to be doing?" He asked with a good natured grin, his voice teasing, poking at her own sense of being right to draw an answer out of her. He was pretty sure she didn't really have one.

"Why Remy... I t'ink what ya need to do is obvious. Cut de craziness out, and if ya wanna play Robin Hood? Den don't play at it Remy. Ya got a heart of golden in dat chest a yours, let de world see it. Go out dere, take from de rich an give t'de poor. An while ya at it, steal me a new stove. Henri being a putz about buying me a new one."

They both had to laugh at that, but Remy's eyes were lighted. She had a point. A very valid point. He needed to stop pretending, and make a choice. Stop reacting, stop running, and start doing. He'd been reacting to other people for years now. Ever since his Exile. Candra. Sinister. The Marauders. Yukio. All reactions, never actions. Even his 'world tour' had been a reaction, just a means for him to a little bit of good, while he ran from Sinister.

"T'anks Mercy."

"Y'welcome Remy. But if you don't go change into a new shirt – an put some pants on, I ain't gonna be held accountable. Ya hear me boy?"

Her laughter chased him back up the stairs to the bedroom and his suitcases.

* * *

It was a pleasant two weeks. Filled with fishing, shopping, a bit of theather, they even went to the zoo. Always at least one of his family was at his side, and it had filled a void he didn't know was empty. Yet as the days ticked by, he found each had similar advice for him. That he needed to make a decision, and when each of his family told it to him, he was believing it a lot more then just Mercy telling him it.

But when the time came for the LeBeau's other then him to head back to New Orleans; love him or not, the Guild needed them – he had a decision to make, and the four stood watching as he packed his belongings into a duffle. The rest was being sent to the home he'd arranged just outside of New Orleans. Far enough out to be out of the pain of death limits. A large sprawling manor.

Jean-Luc had offered to buy it for him, but Remy dropped a full payment down without batting an eyelash. He'd come up in the world, and he wanted his family to know that he wasn't hurting. It did them good to remember that he was a master thief himself. And as the old family saying went 'when all else fails, I'm a thief, and all else failed'. Not that anyone in the family but him said it.

So it was really just his saying.

Once his sole bag was strapped onto his new Harley, hugs, waves, kisses, and more hugs were exchanged, Remy floored it out of Baton Rouge. He'd start in Florida, work his way up the coast to New York. He didn't have a solid plan, because his plan consisted of stealing from people, helping the downtrodden, and rescuing many a beautiful damsels in distress.

It was a good plan, if you asked him. Maybe there'd be some poker games, a bit of booze, and some thank you sex involved too. Maybe. He'd include buying kids candy in the plan, but that would just be creepy. He'd have to settle for donating cash for education equipment to the poorer public schools he came across.

* * *

Mean while, in the great State of New York, Weschester, Greymalkin Lane, Charles Xavier sat behind his desk looking tired. The events at the Statue of Liberty had taken a toll on the X-men, and Charles still wasn't fully recovered yet. Ororo was worried about him, about all of the X-men. As quick as Logan had come, he'd gone.

"You'll have to do this mission alone, Ororo. Are you up to that? Scott can pilot the jet and drop you off, and you'll be able to arrange a flight back to New York commercially. Scott and Jean will need the jet on the mission we're sending them on."

Storm frowned. "What about Logan?"

Xavier's face mimiced her own. "He left this morning. He didn't say good bye?"

"Not to me. Although he must have to Rogue, she looked sad this morning."

Charles nodded, understanding the message. "I will have a talk with Rogue, but can you handle the mission Storm?"

"I don't see that it will be a problem Charles, as long as someone can fill in for my classes. When do I leave?"

"In two hours, if you can pack that quickly. That's when Jean and Scott had wanted to leave if they were going to be able to drop you off and get to their own missions destination on time."

"Then I better pack. I'll see you in a few days, Professor Xavier." Smiling, Ororo slipped from the Professor's office. The mansion was quiet with worry after what happened at the Statue of Liberty. Not as quiet as after the Massacre, but still quiet. It would be good to get away for a few days, and on a solo mission none the less.

Scott and Charles trust in her had been growing since the Massacre, and being sent on a solo mission was a large sign of that fact. Outside the sun shined, despite the fact it had been cloudy only a half hour ago, and Ororo hummed a soft tune to herself as she prepared.

_Hmm. Georgia. I better not pack anything too prudeish, or I'll sweat to death. Tank tops, some jeans, a pair or two of shorts. My uniform of course. Maybe I'll even get a chance to visit some of the Gardens in South Carolina if I finish the mission quickly enough. The roses are supposedly some of the prettiest in the south, there._

* * *

**Authors Note:** Shorter then the last few, but it was a set up chapter. Obviously the next one will be longer again, and it's very likely there's going to be a Ororo/Remy meeting in the near future. Logan will be showing up within the next 3 chapters as well. Gotta have the hairy Canadian after all. 


	13. Stormy

Remy found that there was a feeling in him he'd been missing. Maybe it was just because he was in the South again. In America again. He wasn't speaking other languages all the time, he wasn't switching accents every day. He wasn't even wearing the contacts, just the shades. Maybe it had a lot to do with being in the South again, and the last hurricane season had left a lot of people needing help.

Money wasn't a cure all, and Remy LeBeau knew it. For every couple of people he could slide a grand or two, or sometimes just two hundred dollars to get them back on their feet – pride, he liked to help the ones with pride. They were more likely to not just fall down again, it seemed to him. But money was not a cure all, it couldn't help everyone.

He'd spent a day or two helping put up new houses in a small town just over the border from Mississippi into Alabama. Winds and rain had demolished houses, and two days of physical labor left him feeling good. He'd have stayed longer, but too many questions got raised in small towns like that, let them just think he was a rich college kid do-gooder type moving across the south. He fit the image. After the shopping trips with Mercy about his only old clothes still left were his jeans which were in good repair yet.

There was also the slight issue of more then a few of the fathers of the town had been eying him and getting ready their shot guns, and he hadn't even slept with any of their daughters. Just talked pleasantly. So much for all good deeds being rewarded, right?

The disturbing thing, though, was he began to notice something. While he'd been away from the States, a sentiment had begun growing among the populace. Mutants were becoming more and more known. They were talked about in Senate, groups rallied against them, and there'd been some kind of mutant incident at the Statue of Liberty. Something about a freaky old man named Magneto getting his ass kicked by a bunch of other mutants no one knew.

It got steadily more disquieting, as he travelled through Georgia. One of the few things Remy always hated about the South, it wasn't any more racist then the North – not really, just people were more open about it. More honest. They didn't hide their racism behind politically correct words, they said things flat out. That was how Remy'd always seen it, at least. Who was worse, a racist who spoke openly, or one who hid it behind couched words? He really wasn't sure. They both struck him as pretty bad, but that could just be because he could feel the emotions behind peoples words, and no one without psi-screens could lie to him if he lowered his shields just a bit.

It was in Albany he'd heard a rumor though, there was a mutant up near Atlanta. Only reason he'd heard it because he'd been sulking in a bar enjoying a beer for the night. Gossip mongers, but more, hate mongers. They seemed to know things they shouldn't. A little bit of persuasion, of the charm kind, and Remy was out of the bar, his hotel room, and Macon on his Harley headed for Albany, a sick feeling in his stomach.

_Can't be too late, can't. Where's dat royal flush when I need one?_ In his head, he played cards, while he drove carelessly down the dark roads, the speedometer pegged at almost a hundred miles an hour, his spatial awareness thrown out searching for police or high way patrol, he didn't have time for cops.

* * *

Her hotel in Atlanta was nice enough. Not too upper class or expensive, but not too poor either. Ororo didn't like to deal with the problems that arose from less then honest establishments. As it was, she still had went out and bought new sheets for the bed. Never trust hotel sheets, you never knew what had been done on them. Perhaps it was a clean freak tendency of hers, but it was how she felt. She was pulling a light leather jacket on over her white top, and checked the mirror. The white hair always stood out in a crowd, but she was still young enough for it to just be a fashion statement, rather then a mark of being a mutant. 

She got looks when she'd gone out into the city the last few days, but not looks of suspcion. Men watched her, and she found she did not mind it so much. There was less call to be the Goddess here, away from the mansion. She had to admit, it was nice to be looked at. None of the adults at the mansion seemed to look at anyone but Jean; despite her being all but married to Scott. Even Logan had never looked twice at her, just at Jean. It was almost distressing, and set her back up. Made the Goddess part of her come out more and more, to maintain the impeccable control required for the weather to not be disturbed by her emotions.

So far, the mini-Cerebra unit hadn't turned up a sign of the mutant she was sent to find. An interesting mutation too. Healers were rare, the only one the X-men had ever encountered so far had been the Morlock called Healer. Which reminded her she'd need to call Moira soon. The Morlocks had all been transferred to Muir Island, and would find a new home somewhere out of the US. Hopefully somewhere peaceful.

Slipping from her rooms after slipping a wallet into her back pocket, and the mini-Cerebra unit into her jacket, she was ready to go. No purse, she was an adept pick pocket, but it was harder to make sure nothing was stolen from a purse then when it was on your person. Besides, it made people less keen to under-estimate a woman. Amazing how just a simple accessory could do that. Yet before she even got out of the hotel, the mini-Cerebra unit beeped.

Frowning, Storm withdrew it and eyed it. Two miles, and it was reading the mutant she'd come to find. A quick move to the rental car she'd got for this mission, and she was fighting her way through traffic. Usually a defensive driver, Ororo was cutting people off left and right. They could only get their readings when powers were used, so she didn't have long if she wanted to find her target.

* * *

Which shouldn't have been a worry it turned out. As she crossed Atlanta into the outlying areas, and evening began to set in, Cerebra kept pinging power uses of the mutant she was seeking. Why would they be using their powers so much? 

When the rented Trans Am slid to park, and she hurled herself over the door of the corvette and broke into a run, she saw why. A slightly short young man was surrounded by a crowd with torches, draped in black. Occasionally someone would throw rocks, or throw something, hurting the youth. Which resulted in damage to the youth. Which would then be healed in a flare of light.

The mobs mouths all dropped open though, when the sky instantly darkened, and lightnings began to fall like rocks from the sky, and rain and wind whipped down, extinguishing torches. She expected them to flee, but instead, one man pulled a gun out at that point, and shot the healer in the head. There was no glowing, while another turned to face her. Their eyes glowing red that sent shivers down her spine.

"Why Hello Wind Rider. I've been waiting for you." Laughter echoed from a number of possessed throats, even as lightnings began to streak wildly about the area, into the crowd, as wind whipped into try to carry Storm aloft.

Someone was screaming No at the top of their lungs – that someone was her. It couldn't be. Not Him. Yet it was, she could already feel him clawing at her mind, as she rained hail, lightning, everything she could down at that mob. Not to kill, but to disable. If he possessed them, striking at them should weaken them, while she raged inside of her head.

_Oh yes, Wind Rider. Are you ready to serve me again?_

Storm screamed as darkness over took everything.

* * *

Her voice wasn't the only one that screamed no, however. A deep voice carried the same words as he saw the white haired mutant falling from the sky, and his feet pounded against the ground. The weather was screwy, but not so screwy as to mess up his aim with kinetically charged objects. Cards flew through the rain ahead of him, and explosions rocked the night. 

He'd been too late, it looked like. One was already dead, but who was this other mutant? He didn't know, but he'd save her if he could. At first, the mob didn't seem to even recognize a threat, and he felt something try to claw at his mental shields. It made his face turn into something even more violent, something trying to get at his mind. Cards sailed through the swirling air, and he struck hard, scattering the mass of bigots into the night. A dark haired man with glowing eyes seemed to snarl, giving the downed weather mutant a nasty regretful look, before turning and fleeing.

Remy didn't give it a second thought, before he scooped up the white haired woman, slung her over a shoulder, and was running back to his bike.

_Shit. No good. Dis de problem wit' riding a bike. Hmm. Well, when in doubt..._

His belongings were tossed off the bike into the red Trans Am's passenger seat, the white haired woman deposited in the back seat, and he had it hot wired in no time at all. The lamentable part was what came next. He couldn't leave his bike here, couldn't leave anything that tied to him here. His bike got a kinetic charge enough to leave nothing behind, and then he was slamming the gas of the Trans Am.

As they rocketed away from the scene, he saw a massive fireball go up into the air from when his bike detonated. Hopefully no one tried to get too close to the glowing fuscia Harley before it happened.

_Merde, dis just ain't my day. Always too slow, a moment behind. Well. I saved de femme, hope she don't go all weather crazy when she wakes up again. Dat be just what I need._

* * *

Hours later, and mile away, two figures sat around a camp fire in a camp ground. A tent had been pitched, the red trans am no where in sight. He'd swapped cars in the last town, pulling a blue Saturn out of a garage. Place he'd taken it from had the look of being deserted, so it was pretty likely no one would notice it was gone for at least a few days. That was what mattered. 

Remy was enjoying his cigarette, while staring at the fire. It's warmth was nice, considering his clothes were still a little damp from odd weather he'd encountered when saving the white haired woman. Hopefully she agreed with him that it was indeed saving. In time though, he'd begun to get worried. Been about five hours, a little past midnight, and the femme wasn't stirring yet. Her eyes hadn't even flicked open once.

Something got her good. Of course, in the way of things in Remy's life, she stirred just as he was beginning to fear she wouldn't. Eyes slipping open, revealing blue the color of a clear day, peering at him and their surroundings questioningly.

"Where are we?" She asked, looking very very confused. More, he could feel her confusion rolling off her. She was afraid, but most of all confused. The kind of confused he'd only encountered once before. Amensia. Just great. He had already scrambled through her pockets and there was no identification on her, she must have lost it in the ruckus.

When he turned to look at her directly, instead of out the corner of his eyes, she gasped. Seeing the ruby red floating in a sea of black. In the night, he knew his eyes cast a faint red glow in addition, and they had a tendency to flash whenever he felt or said something emphatically enough. She squirmed back a little on the ground for a moment, then shook her head and smiled. She was confused by that as well, he could tell. As if she didn't understand both why she feared him, and why that brief fear was gone and replaced with.. trust?

That simple? His charm wasn't in place. Why? Remy just offered a soft smile to her.

"We be about 200 miles south of Atlanta, chere. Figured better put some distance between us and de people dat attacked ya. I'm Remy LeBeau." Holding his hand out as he shifted to face her bodily.

"You're a Cajun." She said with a small laugh, as he took her hand, and brushed his lips against her chocolate skin.

"Oiu. And you chere? Dere a touch of Africa on your tongue. I be delighted t'learn where I might find more treasures like you." His words rose the desired faint blush in her cheek, as he let his fingers brush her hand, then let go.

"I.. do not know. Everything is a blank." She said it a lot more calmly then Remy figured he would have in her situation. He could see the slight watery effect at her eyes, and he offered an encouraging smile, as he slipped over to sit down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"Well den, we just have to get ya memories back, non? I stole a lot of t'ings, but ain't never stole someone's memories back for dem before." His voice rich with bravado, knowing it was necessary even if she didn't look like it was. His arm about her squeezed faintly, his fingers pressing reassuringly against her shoulder.

He wasn't expecting her laughter. "You're a thief, are you?"

"Yea, dat be what I am. What so funny about dat? Usually people guard themselves when dey find it out, course, I already rifled through ya pockets, ya didn't have no money or identification on ya."

"You didn't check my sock. There's a few bills there. No, don't look at me like that, I didn't remember it. I can feel the bills pressing against my ankle. I... think I might have been a thief too. I can't remember it, but.. the knowledge is there?"

_huh. Wasn't expecting a tres belle fille like dis, a weather mutant none de less, t'be a thief. Mebbe this not be so bad after all. Just hope I can help the chere, be a pity for a woman like dis to not remember who she was. Den again, mebbe not. She so controlled, even wit'out her memories. _

"Anyt'ing come to mind dat ya want me to call ya?"

She just frowned, shook her head, then shrugged. He couldn't imagine not knowing what to call himself. Even with the vast list of aliases he went by, he never for a moment didn't know he was Remy LeBeau. He could feel the sadness, the fear, the panic, starting to rise into her.

He waylaid it by putting a finger to her lips, and offering her what he called his Knight in Shining Armor smile.

"Well chere. When I come across ya, ya was up in de air. Throwing lightnings, wind, an rain. So how bout I just call ya Stormy?"

"That's a silly name." But her tone wasn't disparaging, and she was smiling back at him. Maybe it was a silly name, but it was for something to latch onto, a name to tie her with the only thing he knew about her. That she controlled the weather.

"Nah. It ain't silly. I like it. Ya got dem clear blue eyes, but I bet dey go like thunderheads when ya feeling t'ings. Stormy pretty fitting, ya ask me."

"Fine. Stormy it is. Well, Remy LeBeau, what were you doing that you found me like this?" She looked up at him with a light smile, before her head rested on his shoulder. She was still listening intently he knew, but sitting that way gave her the soft pillow of his chest to rest on, and an angle where the fire would still warm her.

"Gets kinda complicated, but.. Well. I been on a bit of a self styled mission. Ya remember de story of Robin Hood?" He waited a moment, and she murmured yes. "Well, I been kinda pullin my version of a modern day Robin Hood. Stealin from de rich an de corrupt, an helping de folks dat need it. Ain't all dat easy, figuring out who it is dat be needing it. Was getting a drink when I heard a bit a rumor bout dat lynching where I found you, so I went t'stop it.."

She was quiet for drawn out moments, and when he looked down, he found blue eyes staring up at him. Oddly considering him. He didn't reach for her emotions though, he'd thrown his mental shields back up all the way. He wasn't going to stoop to reading her emotions. She'd lost everything else, they were all she really had right now.

"A modern day hero for the people? You _are_ an interesting man, Remy."

"Ain't no hero, Stormy. Just a t'ief."

* * *

She'd gone quiet, after asking that. Peering up at this odd man who'd saved her. His eyes were oddly captivating. A sea of the darkest black, with ruby red floating in the midst. Occasionally his eyes flashed, and when a cloud drifted over obscuring the moon, his eyes emitted a faint glow. His face was covered in a light stubble, and when he wasn't thinking dark things, when it softened, she had a hard time imagining that there was a more beautiful man walking around anywhere else in the world. 

Strands of reddish-brown hair hung almost to his eyes, and he was well built. So was she, though. She knew that, because she felt strong. Yet her hero was an oddity. She'd called him that, and the response had made her want to cry for him. Her, she couldn't even remember who she was, but the bitterness and pain in his voice when he said he wasn't a hero. Whoever Remy LeBeau was, she knew one thing about him.

He didn't know himself half so well, if a total stranger could find something out about him in only hours that he didn't know about himself.

_He could be dangerous. No, he is dangerous. How he sits, the muscles. And I can feel more then a few weapons tucked into his duster. Why does he have multiple packs of playing cards though? Who and what are you, Remy LeBeau? You're not just a thief, whatever you say._

"Whatcha thinking Stormy?" He asked, peering down at her. She just put a smile back on her lips, and poked him in the side.

"It is late, and I'm tired. I see you have a tent, did you get blankets too or is it going to be better to rough it by the fire?"

"Tent for you, chere. Got two sleeping bags too, I just rough it by the fire, you take de tent." A light smile accompanied the words, and she hadn't even realized a soft laugh escaped her throat.

"Don't be silly Remy, if you have two sleeping bags, we'll share the tent." Before he could protest, she poked him in the chest with two fingers. "But you _will_ stay in your sleeping bag."

He looked as if he was going to argue, studied her face, and seemed to think better of it. His answer was simple. "D'Accod, Stormy."

"Good. Now put the fire out, and let's get some sleep. We're going to steal from the rich tomorrow."

"Que?" He asked, but she was already slipping away from him towards the tent. The tone, the way he sounded confused by her statement made her grin at the tent before her as she unzipped the opening.

"Unless Robin Hood thinks he's too good for a partner?" She didn't catch his answer, because he yelped when he got a bit of a burn from the fire, his hand paused in the act of being about to dump water on the fire.

* * *

Five days later, they rested in another camp ground. This time in Mississippi. 

"So, ya having fun Stormy?" Remy inquired of her as he stepped into the light of the fire, and dropped down next to her. Passing over the salad and fruit he'd picked up for their dinner. It was late, perhaps three am, she knew. They did their work between midnight and 3am. He was still dressed in his form fitting thin blacks, his duster thrown on over it. She in similar blacks, although the bandana she wore while they work was tucked in her belt, that white hair hung free.

"Of course I am, Remy. I don't think I've ever had as much fun as we've been having. It feels.. good. Simple. And who could complain about the company?" She patted the log next to her, for him to move closer then the yard or so he'd sat down away from her. He complied with a laugh.

"Glad t'hear dat chere. Here's de food." He murmured, passing one of the salads and half the fruit on over to her. She'd remembered she was a vegetarian, the first time they'd went to a diner to eat, and just the idea of eating meat had made her feel ill. Oddly, Remy didn't complain. He just nodded, and most of the time ate the same things she did. Occasionally he'd indulge in meat when they ate in establishments, but just as a variety, rather then as if he had any true preference.

"You still sure bout dis camping t'ing? Cleaning up in a lake a bit chilly, after all." Those devils eyes sought hers, and she just smiled then shifted focus to her food.

"Yes. I like nature, and you can't compete with the view. Besides, I know you like the sound of nature as much as me. You fall asleep almost as soon as you crawl into your sleeping bag."

"Yeah, well. Suppose dat be true." He had one of those little secretive smiles on his face when he told her that, she noted as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. They both fell quiet for a time, while they ate.

"Remy?" "Yea?" "Why do you do this?" "Do what, Stormy?"

"The Robin Hood thing."

"Oh. Dat. Well.. I done some bad t'ings, chere. Some real bad t'ings. Guess it's my way of atoning for dem."

"Does it help? Make you feel better? Help you get closer to your atonement?"

He fell quiet before answering, looking thoughtful. She felt a pain in her chest for him, even before he answered.

"Non. Not so much. It's like a trickle of good, going against a stream of bad. Could do dis for de rest of m'days, and I don't t'ink I ever be at peace from what I done. But helping you chere, it help a lot more."

_If I didn't know him better, I'd say he was trying to flatter me, and he is. Silly thief, I've already realizd you hide things behind bravado and what seems to be flattery._

"If I may ask.. what did you do wrong, Remy?"

His face went into a pained look, and her heart nearly snapped in two, and she found that she really had no desire left for the last few pieces of fruit left on her paper plate. Silence reigned between the two for a few minutes, each staring at the fire or listening to the sounds of nature.

"It started when I killed my brother in law.. He challenged me to a duel at de wedding reception. I'm a T'ief chere, a real one. T'ieves Guild. Bella and my marriage was going t'cement a lasting peace between de guilds." To her surprise, he continued.

She listened, hearing the man she'd come to regard as friend, perhaps more, at the least her hero, lay his soul bare to her. Indescretions, broken promises, misdeeds. Jealousy. His tale of Candra filled her with anger, at whoever that callous cruel woman was. Killing. Whoever this Sinister was, it sent chills down her spine so severe she didn't understand. Perhaps it was because of how afraid of him Remy sounded. She'd never heard real fear in his tone.

Not his tone. He was the man who would brave anything, if there was a reason to. He would jump into a flaming building to pull people out without ever even considering the possibility he might get burned, let alone more seriously hurt. She wasn't just misreading him either, she had seen him do it three days ago. Three times he'd gone into a burning building, to pull out just one more person each time.

His description of a massacre in the sewers of New York left her shivering and feeling cold inside. Something about that stirred at her memory. His adventures in Europe thawed that chill, and the tale of what happened in Japan made her want to cry for him. She'd never realized how fragile he was underneath that dazzling personality. He feared love so much, and the name of Yukio tugged at her memories as well. Why or how, she didn't know, but when he described her she could form a perfect mental picture of the ronin.

When he finished his tale with "dat about when I met ya, Stormy. If ya don't wanna stay wit' me no more.. I understand"

She just frowned at him, tossed both their plates into the fire, and pulled him into a hug, his head resting on her chest, as she stroked his hair. He was crying. Her hero was crying. She didn't even realize she was crying, until he'd shifted, and his fingers brushed her own tears off her cheeks.

"Don't cry Stormy, it just turn me into even more of a sobbing wreck."

How a smile formed on her lips, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was the almost begging tone in his voice, as she dragged both of them to their feet. "Come. Sleep will do both of us good."

That night they slept together. Arms wrapped around each other. And that was all they did, each taking comfort just in having someone holding them.

* * *

Charles Xavier was frowning across his desk at Scott and Jean. 

"I can't find her. Even with Cerebro. She hasn't checked in in days, and when I called the hotel, she hadn't been seen for six days now. Checking with the rental car company, her car was stolen. It was found 300 miles out of Atlanta. The only confirmed sighting of Ororo has been at that lynch mob just outside of Atlanta, where the mutant we'd sent her to try and recruit was killed. Reports – and they are very jumbled; say she scared the mob off but was hurt. No one knows what happened after that, an explosion rocketed the area, destroying whatever evidence might have been there."

All three faces frowned. If they couldn't find her with Cerebro..

"Can you find her thoughts without Cerebro, Professor?" That was Scott.

"I've tried, Scott. It's much harder. I know Ororo well enough to find her from over a continent away, but I can't get a grasp of her. Twice I've gotten close, I think. But there's something wrong. I think she may have amnesia."

"But even with Amensia, you should be able to find her Charles." Jean said with certainty, and scott and Charles both nodded.

"I should be able to. I have, once or twice. But only for moments, and never with enough time to discern her location. Two brief touches, and I could only discern she's not in danger. She's not even worried, but she seems happy."

"If her amnesia isn't stopping you, what is Professor?" Scott was frowning at the Professor, and Charles smiled sadly. Scott was one of his first students, adopted as his own son, but the young man knew his limitations. He knew more about telepathy than any non-telepath ever could, but that was because of Jean and his time with Charles.

Jean, for her part, looked confused too. "Professor?"

"Oh, right. There is a static around her. A haze. Either whatever happened somehow created a field of static around her – which is very possible, if an accident involving lightning happened, an electro-magnetic field could produce those results.. or she's with someone who produces some kind of static field in their close vicinity."

"Couldn't you just find whoever is with her, then?"

"I've tried. I can't. Cerebro isn't registering anything that I could use to narrow the search, either."

"So what do we do?" Scott sounded very unhappy with all of this.

"We wait and have faith in Ororo, Scott."

Outside of the gated entry of Charles Xavier's School, a figure smiled. "If I can't have the Wind Rider, then I'll just have to have my vengeance on you Xavier." With those words uttered, he left his current host, jumping bodies to one of the children playing in the yards.

* * *

Three weeks, they'd been together now, and they had returned to find what help for her they could. That was the plan, anyway. 

"So this is it?"

"Yea Stormy, dis be de place." He flashed her a grin, as the car came to a halt at his Tante's cabin. Killing the engine, he slipped out the door, adjusting his trench. The air was humid, and the weather was warm. Even for him, the duster was a touch on the warm side in the swamps, but without it he'd feel a slight chill. Damned kinetic transference.

"C'mon Stormy, you gotta meet Tante. She be able to help ya, I sure of it." Remy was aware of the smile on his face. He hadn't expected to be back here so soon, but Tante said she'd help when he'd called her. Slipping around the car, he interlaced his half gloved fingers with hers, and walked to the cabin with her.

He knocked once, while already opening the door – which was flung open before he had it there, and he had Tante wrapping her arms around him. Remy had to laugh, and after a moment disentangled arms and sidestepped into the cabin.

"Heya Tante. Betcha didn't expect ta see me so soon again?"

"No I didn't, childe. Dis your Stormy?"

His companion was eying the two of them with a grin on her lips, while Remy made the introductions. "Tante Mattie, dis be Stormy. Stormy, dis be Tante. She be like a mother to me."

The older woman flashed him a soft smile. It was the first time he'd ever acknowledged that bond in front of someone not a part of the LeBeau house hold. Tante grasped one of Stormy's hands, and gave it a squeeze.

"Well, I see our boys talent for finding beautiful women hasn't diminished any. Oh quit blushing girl, you're beautiful and you know it. I like the hair, now come in before you catch a cold. Remy, you go get your things inside. I've got the guest rooms prepared already."

Laughing, Remy just arched a brow at Stormy, but she nodded at him. She was okay to be left alone with Tante, while he began the process of playing pack mule and carting there bags into the cabin. He used the back door, aware that Tante had used it to get some alone time with Stormy. She had to get to know the other, before she worked her magic.

Besides, it'd give him time to have a cigarette undisturbed, and just soak in the feel of the swamps. Funny, Jean-Luc had been right. He wasn't afraid of gators anymore.

* * *

"How much he tell ya, childe?" 

"About what? About himself? Everything, I think. About Gambit, his past, what he's been through.."

"He opened up to ya dat much?" Tante seemed surprised, perhaps taken aback. Which confused her. Remy obviously loved her, had he not been as open with his family?

"Well, yes. Hasn't he.. with you?"

"Non. Remy's been through a lot, ever since the wedding. He's afraid that we won't know how to take it if he told us everything, but we know most of it anyway, and it just makes us worry more for him. Jean-Luc has eyes and ears in a lot of places."

"Oh. Maybe.. if you let him know you knew, and it didn't matter?"

"Non. Not with Remy. He be stubborn, and he don't like people knowing things about him unless he told dem. So I won't ask about it, childe. What I will ask is if you're in love with him."

Stormy frowned at that question. She didn't know how to answer it. Did she love Remy? Yes. Was she in love with him? She didn't know. They had something, but if it was romantic or just friendship, she had no idea. "I don't know."

Tante eyed her, and then shrugged. "Least your honest, childe. Now, about your memories.."

* * *

Remy figured two hours had been enough time. Besides, it'd started to rain out. Weird, that. It'd been a nice clear day, why should it start raining out of the blue like that? Maybe it meant they were done? Who knew. Tante had worked miracles before, but that soon? 

Shrugging, he strode into the cabin, through the back door towards the living room. He didn't even get a greeting out, before he had arms wrapped around him, and white hair in his face. His Stormy was laughing like a mad woman as she hugged him so hard he felt like he might break in half.

"I remember, Remy! I remember everything." He'd went to open his mouth, she sounded so happy, and he found himself smiling, and then he found her lips pressed to his cheek, and then she disengaged herself from him.

"Remy LeBeau, meet Ororo Monroe. Storm." That from Tante, seated in her chair watching the two with the kind of grin only an elderly person watching two youngsters could have.

"Storm, huh? Guess I hit de mark pretty good, eh Stormy?" A chuckle followed the words, as she waggled her fingers at him.

"That is still a silly name. You should call me Ororo, or at least Storm, Remy." Her chastesizing really didn't work. Not with the way she was laughing with the words, and smiling at him. She'd always be his Stormy, even if she honestly didn't like the name.

"Well, I suppose I could jus' cal you 'Ro, Stormy." He smiled, and lead her back to have a seat, while snagging a beer for himself from Tante's fridge. "So ya remember everyt'ing now? Dat good. Ya need ta make any phone calls, bet ya got people worried about ya huh?"

He didn't know why he felt sad suddenly. She knew who she was. Storm. She was probably important. He already knew she was a good person. She probably had people she needed to get back to, a life waiting for her... and wouldn't have any more time to spend her time gallivanting with one Remy LeBeau.

"Almost everything. The attack is still a mess in my head, I can't remember it, but I can remember everything else. Remy.. thank you. Thank you so much."

Tante coughed, interrupting them. "I better be making a run to the grocer. Jean-Luc, Henri, and Mercy'll be here afore long. Oh don't look so surprised, Remy. You think I could keep them away, with you coming back so soon? I'll be back in a while."

* * *

It was a dizzying night. Meeting Remy LeBeau's family. Ororo could see where Remy got some of his charm from. Jean-Luc and Henri had been charming, and Henri's wife Mercy was a spit fire. Once they realized she knew about the Guild, Mercy had been all to happy to tell her story of how she'd become the first woman Guild member, and was proud of the fact. 

They were an interesting group, to say the least. Not the least bit ashamed of being Thieves – something Ororo could never find in herself. Now though, after her time with Remy and meeting these people? It was something she'd never be ashamed of again. Dinner had been amazing, and so had the conversation. It seemed any friend of Remy's was a friend of hers. They'd welcomed her with open arms, and the only minor annoyance had been in that they all called her Stormy. She didn't mind when Remy did it; not much at least, but it seemed weird to have other people call her that.

The spare rooms of the cabin were full up, and rather then have anyone sleeping on the floor, she'd volunteered Remy to be sleeping with her. His family had all been a bit surprised at that, when Remy just shrugged and agreed. Perhaps it was his lack of flirtatious comment at sleeping with her, but she liked having Remy close to her, and after talking to Tante, she'd come to realize it wasn't nature that had caused Remy to sleep so well when they camped out. It'd been because he trusted her.

The most infamous thief in the world, who trusted almost no one, trusted her. Quite the irony.

"You can open your eyes again." She informed him, as she curled into bed next to him. He was silly that way. For all the fact they both slept nude, he'd closed his eyes when she started undressing, saying he wouldn't infringe on her honor. It seemed silly, given their bare bodies were curled against each other at the moment, touching. Yet he was seemingly unwilling to see her undress, and he'd certainly seen her when they got out of their sleeping bags in the mornings..

"D'accord. Although I mebbe peeked jus' a little bit.." He winked, and wrapped an arm around her, petting at her hair. "Didn't t'ink you'd still wanna be close t'me now dat ya got ya memories back chere. So what ya do now?"

She knew he was afraid, afraid of her leaving him out of his life. She was afraid of it too. Now that she'd met Remy LeBeau, the world could never be the same without his reckless laughter, his spicy scent, or him lurking near in that silly duster he always wore. They hadn't talked about that yet, not really. In the time alone they'd briefly had, they'd just talked about thieving, his family, anything but what was going to come next.

"Remy.. I'm a teacher." She laughed at how he looked confused, as if that'd been the last thing he had ever expected her to say. She laughed, and shifted, pulling his head to rest on her shoulder instead of the other way around, her fingers playing in his red-brown hair. "Don't you laugh at me. I'm a teacher. I teach social studies, and a few other subjects. At a very.. special school. Charles Xavier's School for the Gifted. It's a school full of those like us, Remy. Mutants.. but that's not all I am. I'm an X-Woman, Remy."

He'd told her his secrets, all of them, she could do no less for a man who was at the very very least like a brother. She could never lie like this with another, not without becoming red from head to toes of embarrassment. So he must be like a brother. Of course.

"Sounds like a nice place, Stormy. What's an X-woman?" He sounded confused.

"You haven't heard of the X-men, Remy? No.. well. Charles Xavier has a dream, an idea. He wants humans to live in peace with mutants, and vice versa. The school teaches the kids how to control their powers, and how to co-exist. It's a good place, Gambit."

Remy just murmured something she couldn't decipher against her chest, and she just laughed a little, and continued to play with his hair. She dreaded what she was about to bring up though, so she kept petting his hair with one hand, and rubbing at his muscled back with the other. The silence drawing out between them for long minutes. She was startled from wracking her brain on how to breach the subject, when his hand settled on her stomach, patting her gently.

"Relax, Stormy. Just say it. Your stomach is fluttering like ya got a gaggle a butterflies in dere, an ya anxiety is pushing at even my mental shields. Ya know all my secrets, chere. Ain't nothing you can't bring up wit' me." His voice was soothing, but she could tell he was nervous. A slight tension in his back, but he was more worried about her anxiety then his own. Typical cajun.

"I forgive you, Remy. I forgive you." She was blinking back tears now. Thinking of him, and...

"For what, Ro?" He murmured against her skin, and she breathed shakily. That's when his head raised to peer up at her with those demons eyes, realizing just how serious she was. She knew he wasn't snooping at her emotions. He'd told her about his empathy, something even his family wasn't fully aware of. They knew he felt deeply, but they didn't realize their darling little LeBeau was an empath. A powerful one, at that.

"For.. for.. the Massacre, Remy. For the Tunnels. We.. the X-men that is.. knew the Morlocks. I .. was their leader." Her voice was shaking, she knew. She also knew both of them were. "The Morlocks leader.. You didn't know what you were doing. You risked your life to save those kids. I forgive you, Remy."

He wasn't looking at her anymore, his hair hiding his eyes with his head looking down. She could feel his body tensing, and felt his tears against her skin. Arms wrapped around him even harder, both of them. Squeezing him down against her, while he just cried against her chest, and she kissed the top of his head.

"I forgive you, Remy. You need to forgive yourself." Sobs racked his body, he felt so cold, while his tears seemed to sear against her skin. All she could do was hold him, pet him, and brush her face against his mess of hair.

She wasn't sure how long he cried, but she was dimly aware he stopped crying at some point, and she felt him shifting a little, his eyes looking back up at her. Confused, open, but mostly confused. She offered him a smile, and kissed his forehead.

"Come back with me? At the very least to see me safely there, and to allow my friends to meet the man who saved me?" She knew this would be a hard sale, and he didn't disprove her.

"It a School Stormy. Ya sure dat a good idea? Kids an everything.."

She clucked her tongue at him, and felt the Goddess side of her rising at his refusing to go along with her desires. "You will come back with me, Remy LeBeau, even if it's just to see me there safely. If you don't like the school, you can leave, but you will come back with me."

To her surprise, he didn't argue. He just kissed her shoulder, and surprisingly shifted their positions. Shifting onto his back, and pulling her head onto his shoulder this time, his arms softly encircling her. Why had he done that?

"D'accord, Stormy. I come back wit' you."

It was his turn to feel her tears against his chest, she realized she was crying softly. She had no idea what she would have done if he hadn't agreed to return with her. She didn't want to lose him from her life, now that he'd been caught up with her. Not even a full month, and he'd changed her life. Worst, she didn't want to imagine a life without the roguish cajun in it, couldn't imagine a life without him in it. With his dashing actions, his bravado, his nearly insane never say die attitude.

"Don't cry Stormy. Nothing t'be crying bout, huh? I said I come wit' you. Now you get some sleep. Mebbe we find a flight up to New York tomorrow... an ya should call home, yeah? Dey prolly pretty worried, non? I sure be worried if you disappeared an didn't make any contact wit' me for dis long."

She bit him on the shoulder, for that, and then nuzzled her cheek against his chest. He made a good pillow. "No. We'll drive, and maybe finish a few heists along the way? I need some time before we get there to think, and time to talk with you. It would do good to remind them I can be surprising sometimes too."

"You say so, Stormy." "I do. Now you sleep too."

* * *

_He had us stop in Charleston, just for the roses._

Ororo found herself laughing, as she ran a finger along the vase of flowers sitting in their hotel rooms bathroom. He'd gotten flowers from all over the city, he must have called ahead. They were everywhere, with their fragrance. Not just roses, but flowers of all kinds. He was full of surprises like that. He'd even taken her shopping, telling her he wouldn't let her friends think he'd been keeping her to just a set or two of clothes for almost a month.

Eying herself in the mirror, she shrugged, and stepped out of the bath room, to spin and look to his eyes. "How do I look, Remy?"

His answer was a whistle, and a wolfish grin. "Pretty damn smoking, chere. Luckiest man in de world be de homme dat ya dress like dat for."

She wished she knew if he was just being flippant, or honest. The white tank top was a good deal tighter about the chest then what she normally wore, and she wasn't used to shirts that exposed her stomach. Or the matching white shorts, that didn't even go halfway to her knees. Exposing an awful lot more leg then she ever would have previously in public, or the sandals on her feet. His eyes on her made her grin though.

"Good. That will do. So, we'll stop in D.C., or somewhere around there, tomorrow, and get to the school the day after tomorrow?" They'd stopped early tonight, the sun hadn't even fallen all the way yet.

"Dat's de plan, shouldn't have too much of a problem making dat distance I t'ink, long as we start at a decent time in de mornin." He was nodding, but his eyes stayed on her. Not on her body, but on her eyes. Yet she had no doubt he was fully aware of how she was dressed. Remy was aware of things like how a woman looked on an almost unnatural level. Then again, he was looking rather good himself. Jeans with the knees ripped a bit, his usual boots, and a tight black shirt that looked practically painted on his toned body. It too, had a hole or slice or three in it, that glimpsed at very defined muscles underneath.

"So we're staying in tonight?" An eyebrow arched at him.

"Non. I got other plans for t'night."

"Oh? Are we stealing something? I'd better get changed into my blacks.."

"Non. Don't bot'er. Not pinching nothing. I thought we catch a play, den got us some dinner reservations."

"Dressed like this?"

"Yup. Just trust me, Stormy."

Heaven help her. She did.

* * *

Flames, explosions, screams. Students fled the dormitory wings of the mansion, as fire leapt at and licked at the walls. John was trying to put them out, while down another hall, Bobby was exuding cold to dampen the flames. 

Rogue ran pushing students down the halls, to escape the chaos that was enveloping the school. It had all started minutes ago, when one of the young energy manipulators had seemingly went insane and attacked – or tried to, Doctor Grey.

Kitty Pryde ran through the halls, grabbing the younger students and phasing, dropping them down to the main floor, and away from the fighting. Professor had told contacted the older students telepathically, and told them to get everyone out by the boat house, while he and Scott and Jean handled the .. incident.

Jubilee was running like a mad woman, and found herself panting by the boat house, while making sure each of the others her and Piotr had rounded up together made it with them. She had no idea why she'd attacked Doctor Grey, and then a moment later she was in control of herself again. Xavier and Grey had seemed to realize it though, and just told her to get out.

* * *

Scott Summers was unconcious. Knocked out in the odd fight that was enveloping the school, Jean Grey was none too happy about it. If he was injured.. there would be hell to pay. Clutching him to her stomach, she felt Charles calling to her on the astral plane. 

Taking a deep breath, she left her body, joining him in a world of swirling colors. Her form immediately incasing in armor and a sword in her hand, just as Charles form was covered. Already the Professor was locked in astral combat with a large shadowy figure. What terrified her, was that the figure seemed to be holding it's own against Charles. What use could se be, against someone who could stand against the worlds most powerful telepath?

_Jean, I need your help._

His plea reminded her, and a shield formed in her other hand, as she darted forward to join the fray. Swords of thought crashing into other blades. Their opponent wielded two blades, rather then a blade and shield the way she and Charles did. An offensife opponent then.

Blades of pure psionic energy crashed into each other. Into shields. It was a desperate fight, one that wasn't getting any easier now that she had arrived to help, as far as she could tell. In fact, it seemed to be going worse, as their opponent went into even more of an offensive attack.

It was for naught, it almost seemed like. And then Charles cried out, but Jean couldn't tell if it had been a hit or a near hit, she couldn't risk shifting her gaze as her sword and shield had to go into over-drive to protect her when the opponents attention shifted to her. It's laughter said it wasn't a good thing.

_**I will enjoy enslaving you, Doctor. You and Charles both. I might even let your little boyscout be my pet two, and have you two entertain me.**_

Rage, anger. He threatened to students, the school, Charles, her, and Scott. She had no doubt how he meant 'entertain' him. Her motions became a flurry, anger pushing Jean Grey into strengths she never showed when calm or afraid. There was no more shy restraint as she lashed out. Her shield and sword functioning almost as if they were part of her.

It was the monsters turn to cry out when her sword cut across it's gut, but she was forced to jump back from a finishing blow due to it's own swords.

That's when the unexpected happen. _Help me, Jean_.

The astral plane was changing. Walls were forming around the monster, and immediately Jean set her mind to helping Charles do what she knew was a terrible fate. Locking him inside of an unescapable cage in the Astral Plane for eternity. Yet this being deserved it, if the Professor was the one initiating such an action.

It's weapons lashed at forming walls, to no avail, it's wound weakning it, as walls of pure thought surrounded it, trapped it, entombed it. It's screams shook the astral plane, until the walls locked even those away. Then Charles nodded, and they fled the astral plane to their bodies.

How long that had taken she wasn't sure, but Scott wasn't in her arms. Instead, he was helping Charles back into his wheel chair.

"What happened, Professor?" _Jean, are you alright? You're alright, aren't you?_ Both Scott's real voice, and his mental voice, were filled with concern, and Jean had to smile softly at the wash of love and concern that came through their mental rapport.

"It was the Shadow King. I.. ran afoul of him, years ago. When we met that time, he lost. I thought him to be dead, that encounter killed his physical form. It would appear he survived on the astral plane, somehow."

The revelation shocked both of his students. They'd never known Charles to have killed anyone..

"I met him in Kenya. When I found Ororo. He was controlling her and others. Before you joined the combat Jean, he mentioned Ororo. He made an attempt at her again before coming here, but he was thwarted. He thought it was by one of us, whoever scared him off was powerful enough to make the Shadow King run."

Charles was rubbing his chin, frowning.

"He didn't run from you, sir." Scott noted, and then he too was frowning.

"No. No he didn't."

"I'm more curious now then ever, at just who Ororo has gotten herself mixed up with. The students are returning to the mansion now, and John and Bobby have the fires under control. The damage to the dormitory wings is considerable though."

Charles was already wheeling himself out of the destroyed room they had been in, to go meet the students.


	14. Stormy Comes Home

Ororo felt butterflies dancing in her stomach as she watched familiar rode passing by. They were almost to Greymalkin Lane, and the last few days had been full of laughter and enjoyment. In Charleston, Remy'd taken her to a open air theater, and then to an italian restraunt. Not the expensive kind, the way they were dressed, but a mom and pop's place that had incredible food.

As had become their ritual, they'd spent each night together. Nothing ever happened, but he didn't shut his eyes when she undressed at least. Nothing ever happened though, and Ororo wasn't sure if that was because they'd become like brother/sister, or why. She knew she was part of his family now though, had been for weeks. Ever since the night he'd opened up to her, she had known she was one of a very small group in the world. She was one of Remy LeBeau's friends.

And soon, he'd be meeting her friends. How would Charles react to him? Scott would hate him, she was sure. Jean would find him amusing. He better not moon after Jean the way every other man seemed to, she'd hit him with lightning. It'd be embarassing, if he did that. In bad taste, she thought.

Remy for his part was driving once again – something she'd learned to enjoy. He seemed to not comprehend what speed limits were for, but he never got a ticket. The devils own luck in avoiding law enforcement, or maybe just skill, although she couldn't imagine how he did it. He drove like a mad man, always above the speed limit, always cutting people off. Getting in a car with him was an adventure in and of itself, but she'd come to find she delighted in it almost as much as he did.

Well, once she realized she wasn't actually in any danger of him getting her killed with his driving, at least. Riding with Remy couldn't help but make you feel alive, as wind whipped at open windows, messed up hair. They'd picked up a cherry red mustang convertible when they left Tante's. Remy saying he might as well just get his own car, instead of keep stealing them, since they were going somewhere legit.

When the car stopped in front of the gates, Ororo found herself laughing.

"Thought ya said dat dis be a school, Stormy? Dis dont look like no school to me." He was eying her dubiously, and eying the sprawling estate and mansion behind the gates. She just winked at him, and reached over to push the buzzer. Scott's voice greeted her.

"Yes? How can I help you?" "It's Ororo, Scott. Buzz us in please."

"Storm! We've been worried about you... us? Uh. Sure."

The gates swam open, and Remy just shrugged his shoulders, and floored it. When the mustang came to a halt in front of the mansion, the car skid a few inches at the rapid stop, and at the steps leading to the door Scott and Jean were looking on in astonishment, at the display of driving. Oh yes, Remy LeBeau would make life interesting, for how ever long he stayed. Which if she had her way, would be a long time. She caught his look though, as she stepped out to get hugged by Scott and Jean. He didn't want her using his real name yet. Just Gambit, until he had decided if he trusted using his real name or not.

After hugs were exchanged, Storm found Jean looking her up and down with a grin on her lips. "Nice outfit, 'Ro. I didn't know you had it in you."

She felt a slight blush rise in her cheeks, and returned the grin. She was wearing a short leather skirt – at least short by her normal standards. It almost went to her knees. Almost. Black heels. And a tight black top that showed some of her stomach. Scott on the other hand was studiously not looking at her in her new outfit that Remy had picked out for her during their spree in Charleston.

"Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend, Ororo?" Scott asked, as Charles wheeled out onto the front steps with a small smile. "Welcome back Ororo, but Scott is right. I think introductions are in order."

Ororo turned her head, expecting to find Gambit at her side, or behind a step, but he was leaned against the drivers door, smoking a cigarette. He cut a dashing figure today. Black jeans a black shirt, his duster, sunglasses. His shirt and pants seemed to have the same light slashes at the knees and about the body that all of his clothes that weren't new had. Seeing her gaze, he offered a grin and wandered over slowly, but didn't throw his cigarette away. He wouldn't change who he was just to impress her friends, he'd told her. She wouldn't have let him even if he'd tried.

"Professor Xavier, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, I'd be more then happy to introduce you to Gambit, my knight in shining armor when I ran into problems."

As predicted, Scott was frowning. Jean was eying Remy appreciatively, no doubt why Scott was frowning, but Charles had a grin on his lips too. Faint, but it was there.

"Bonjour. Any friends of Stormy's is a friend of mine. She has spoken highly of you all." He shook hands with Scott, kissed Jean's hand, and shook Xavier's. And ignored her "Don't call me Stormy, it's a silly name." beyond acknowledging her with a simple "D'accord."

Yet that simple name had apparently set all three of them both at ease, and cautious. They'd never seen anyone who could banter with Ororo, or would call her Stormy. A student had once, and after that punishment, no one ever had again. Not even her fellow X-men.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Gambit. Come in, all of you. There is a lot to discuss. Scott, why don't you show Gambit to an open room, and help him bring in his and Ororo's things, while Jean and I catch up with Ororo?"

Scott seemed surprised at that, at Xavier's immediate assumption Gambit was staying, but Storm was thankful he had. Remy'd have a harder time running when he knew he was welcome right off the bat.

"Give him a room near the attic entrance, if one is available please?" That got surprised looks too, no doubt they were making assumptions based on how she was dressed, or the way Remy stood close to her, protective of her. How they'd have sputtered if they knew he'd be spending his nights in the attic anyway.

Feeling more self possessed and confident at the School then she had in a long time, she smiled, patted Remy on the hand. "Play nice with Scott" she told him, and then lead a one woman procession into the mansion, Charles and Jean falling in behind her sharing a look.

* * *

"So, Gambit? Interesting name. Since you called Ororo Stormy, I'm guessing you know about the X-men? I'm called Cyclops." Scott added, as he saw Remy nod. He was confused. This man was not at all what he expected. He couldn't have been much younger, or older, then he was, but he was self confident. He also moved with a deadly grace that set him to worrying. He'd only seen that kind of walk in a few people, and never so pronounced. Wolverine moved almost like that, but a bit more feral. This gambit, whoever he was, moved with fluid movements. He couldn't decide if it was like a snake, or what comparison came close to being correct.

"We can just talk until you finish your cigarette, no smoking in the mansion."

Gambit again nodded. "D'accord. Stormy said dis was a school, where all de students?"

Scott frowned. How much had Storm told him? "We had an incident a few days ago. Since it's Summer, we sent most of the kids who have families home for a few weeks while repairs are made. We only have two of the older students still here with us. Those who didn't want to go home, or lack homes to go to, went to Scotland for a couple weeks vacation with an associate of the school."

Scott expected questions about what kind of trouble, instead he just nodded as if trouble was expected, then finished his cigarette. As Scott was about to tell him not to just litter, the butt began to glow fuscia, and a few moments later it was seared out of existance. He wasn't sure what he'd just seen, or even if he saw what he thought he just had.

"Well, let's get to hauling luggage. Women. Jean always relegates me to carrying stuff on our vacations too."

Gambit laughed. "Ya got a good woman dere, homme. She awful in love wit' you too, pretty obvious. But tell me homme, ya woman, she have _dis_ much luggage?" A thumb was jerked at the back seat of the mustang and all of the duffles and suitcases there, and then he popped the trunk, revealing it too was full.

Scott found himself blinking, and just staring. "Most of this is Ororo's?"

"Yup. Mebbe a quarter of it be mine. We do some shopping, an well. Stormy, she liked a lot of things, so I got dem for her." Gambit's grin annoyed him. As did the way he referred to Stormy. It was entirely to personal, for only having known her a month at most. Something about this Gambit just rubbed him the wrong way in general. He was too loose, to .. secretive. Who called themselves by their code name all the time?

"You gonna help den, Cyke?" The question stirred him from his disapproving frown, and he noted Remy had already slung a duffle over each shoulder, and grabbed two suitcases. Shrugging, Scott grabbed some, and lead the way up to the room. Then he had to go to another, because Ororo had asked to have him close by hers. That meant putting him in the teachers quarters rather then guest quarters, but it would work out. The room next to his and Jean's was open, and the attic entrance was right across the way.

Pushing the door open, Scott let Gambit go first, then followed him.

The cajun just nodded, eying the room. "Not bad. Place decorated pretty well. Few pieces dat be out of place, but whoever chose most of de paintings did it wit' a pretty fine eye for art."

As they off loaded the bags, Scott noticed Gambit was still wearing his glasses in doors. "The professor decorated it. Before he opened the mansion as a school, it was his family home. Do you always wear your sunglasses in doors?"

"Heh. You one to talk homme. But most of de time, yea. Got an eye condition."

Scott felt himself blush, realizing the irony of him bringing it up. "Oh. Me too. An eye condition that is. My powers.. well. These glasses are all that stop them."

"Bet dat's hell on ya nose and ears, mon ami. Now how bout we grab de rest of dem bags, den you show me where de kitchen is? Stormy, she was in such a tizzy to get back here dat we skipped lunch."

"Oh. Of course. You don't want to go join her and the Professor right away?"

"Non. Pretty obvious dey want to find out what she been up to, and about me. Dey have dere time, while I eat make food for me an Stormy. She find me when dey done, or come get me, I figure."

"Right." Scott felt even more ill at ease. This cajun was secretive, and seemed to think everyone else was as well. The worst part was, he was right. He hadn't said it, but he seemed to know Scott had even been asked to try to feel him out.

_I hope it's going better in the office for you, Jean._

_Not much better, lover boy._ Came the answer.

* * *

Charles was watching Storm. She had a worried frown on her face, after learning what happened with the Shadow King here at the school. She had calmed a little when she found out no one had been injured too badly, mostly just property damage.

".. So, after your run in with the Shadow King, our young friend Gambit saved you. Then you spent weeks travelling together, before his friend helped restore your memories?" Charles knew his curiosity was evident in his question, but he also knew Ororo wouldn't hide anything too important from them.

"That's mostly right. After Atlanta, we spent some weeks travelling together. Gambit wanted to take me straight to his Tante, but I insisted we take our time." Charles knew he wasn't the only one confused, because it was Jean who asked "Why?"

At which Ororo frowned, and tapped her fingers against her chair. "Gambit is a thief."

She'd been about to say more, Charles thought, but Jean gasped. "A thief? And you brought him here Ororo? But what about the children?"

"That is unfair, Jean. Ororo herself is a skilled pick pocket, if you remember. What was it the two of you occupied your time with before going to this Tante woman, Ororo?"

Ororo flashed him a thankful smile for redressing Jean for her. "We were stealing. Gambit is.. as cliché as this might sound, does sound even, he's the quintessential Robin Hood. He was stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. His targets were always other criminals, or the corrupt, taking ill gotten from them, and bettering the lives of those who he found to be deserving of help."

"And I suppose he didn't find the deserving very often, and most of that money lined his pockets?" Jean's voice was laced with suspicion.

"No, not at all. Gambit keeps some for himself, obviously, but never more then fifty percent, usually more like a quarter. He honestly wants to help people, needs to help people. He has a troubled past, and has been wronged by many people. He doesn't trust easily, he doesn't even realize how pure his own heart is, but he's not greedy."

Jean looked unsure, but Charles was nodding. "That explains it."

Both women frowned at him. "Explains what?"

"His mental shields. If he has been wronged, and trusts little, it explains why his mental shields are so strong. Even if they weren't, it might be hard to read Gambit. He's surrounded by a.. static. Is Gambit a telepath, Ororo?"

Ororo laughed to his surprise, then shook her head. "No Professor, he isn't. Gambit's something very different, but you will have to ask him. I won't betray his trust in me."

Charles glanced at Jean, and saw she was still frowning. "Ororo, do you know his real name? You seem to know an awful lot about him, and trust him a great deal. For our own peace of mind, could you explain that?"

"Yes, please." Jean's voice was still full of suspicion and doubt, but he couldn't entirely blame her. She was worried about her friend.

"I know his real name. I know him very well. I've met his family, and know him in some ways better then he knows himself. So believe me when I tell you he's no threat to us, unless you make him one. Gambit is dangerous, perhaps one of the most dangerous people we've ever had under the roof. But he's no threat, he would protect every one of us with his life if he had to."

"You seem very sure of that, Ororo. I hope your right." Some of Jean's skepticism, some of it, seemed to be abating.

"Well, with such a sterling recommendation, I can hardly complain. Although I may have to keep an eye on my valuables with such a skilled thief in the mansion." Charles laughed, and saw that some of Ororo's tension finally left her. She'd been afraid, very afraid, that they might not let Gambit stay. Whoever this cajun thief was, he'd made an impressive bond to Ororo in such a short time.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. If you give him a chance, he may trust you as he trusts me."

""Ro.. are you in love with him?" Jean asked, and Charles hid his smile behind his cup of tea. He was very much curious to hear the answer to that as well.

While Ororo blushed faintly, but she didn't look away. "I don't know, Jean. I can never tell. I am his friend. He's a friend, but he could be my brother, or.. I just don't know."

Charles kept his smile hidden, as the two women seemed to temporarily forget he was there.

"Well, I'm glad you found a friend at the least, 'Ro. He's good for you, I've never seen you so confident before. Whether he's your friend, or your lover, I'm glad."

Both looked surprised, when Charles coughed faintly. "Perhaps we should adjourn to the kitchen? Scott just informed me that Gambit has almost finished a late lunch for us all."

* * *

The telepathic summons for lunch had cost her missing the ping pong ball, and allowed Bobby Drake to raise his hands in a cheer of victory. "I won, Jubes! You're stuck doing my laundry for a week!"

"That was so a cheat, Drake. The Prof just jumped in my head, said we're supposed to go join everyone for lunch. Which I can smell from here, smells hella good. Little spicy though, I wonder who cooked."

"Dunno... hey, who's Mustang is that out there in the drive?"

"Woah. Now _that_ is a car. Whoevers it is better let me drive it! Wonder when it got there, we weren't _that_ into the game."

"No, but you had the stereo on so loud we couldn't have even heard Scott lecturing us."

"True that, Bobby. Let's go pig out."

The two nodded, and wandered through the all too empty halls, towards the kitchen. Yet when they stepped in, they both stopped short. For one, the food smelled insanely good. For two, Miss Munroe was standing at the counter pulling plates from a shelf.

Jubilee whistled. "Woah, Miss Munroe. You're looking _smoking_. Welcome back!" While Bobby just murmured "Yeah, what Jubes said.. Welcome back!" the last was louder then the first though.

Jubes was surprised. Normally Storm never dressed like that, showing leg and belly and a clingy shirt that showed cleavage. Definitely weird, but maybe it was just because the students were gone? Her and Bobby were brought out of there thoughts however, by the voice that answered – not the stern 'Jubilee' from Scott, or the harumphing sound from Jean.

It was a rich voice, and came from the by the stove. "See Stormy? I toldja. You look tres belle in dat outfit, an even dese two can see. Though ya might wanna not take fashion advice from de petite in de yellow jacket. Eck. Den again, de boy mebbe not much better. Dere other places t'shop den de Gap, homme."

"Gambit, how many times must I tell you? Do not call me that silly name." Lightning danced at her finger tip. "Jubilation Lee, Bobby Drake, meet Gambit. Gambit, Jubilee and Bobby."

"Hey, this coat rocks! Sides, least I'm not wearing glasses in doors. At least Mr Summers has an excuse, and is that accent real?" Jubilee knew she was babbling, as she took in the man called Gambit. He was tall, taller then Scott, and built like woah. His grin should have been a sin, and she felt her knees getting weak, and a fire building in her body. Wow. She thought Storm had been dressed to kill, but this dude. Those jeans were tight, and his ass was great, at least what she saw while he finished lunch, and that shirt was painted on.

If it had been painted on, she wouldn't have minded licking it off.

"Jubilee!" Scott again, damnit. And before Bobby talked, which from the way Bobby swallowed his words, Jubilee knew if he'd waited a moment longer he'd have been lecturing both of them.

"Don' worry Cyke, de petite just got her back up cuz I made fun of de coat. Don' worry bout it though, eh? People always knock my duster too. As for de shades.. eye condition, ya might say."

Jubilee felt like she was in love. Even if he was calling her petite. He was hot, easy going, and if the duster sitting on the back of one of the chairs at the table was his, had a major sense of style. Even his sunglasses were designer.

"Eye condition, like red eye?" For some reason, Storm was laughing, and after a moment, so was Gambit, while Scott shoed everyone to the table. In moments, Storm and Gambit had served everyone. It was spicy, a cajun dish, but she noticed he'd prepared equal amounts of salad and bread for himself and Storm. Except unlike her, he also ate some of the meat, but kept mostly to the salad and breads and rice.

Before conversation could start up again once dinner was served though, Gambit looked at Storm, who nodded, and he just shrugged. "Well Jubilee, ya might say dat it kinda like red eye. Wanna see?"

The adults were looking curiously at eachother, and then at Gambit, while Jubilee just nodded. She wanted to see anything he'd show her. He probably had super sexy brown eyes, or maybe green. His hair had a red tinge to the brown, he might have green? Although that might look weird.

When Gambit's shades were set on the table, and he opened his eyes again, everyone at the table but Storm gasped lightly. _Oh wow. Those are like, the coolest eyes I have ever seen.. Ever._

"T'anks petite." With a start, Jubilee realized she'd said it out loud. Yet his words released the spell that had settled over the table, as everyone took in the red on black eyes that periodically flickered with reddish energy. So unique of eyes, the reds looked more like coils of energy, or a core of energy, then actual human anatomy.

"You're a very accomplished cook, Gambit. Do you do non cajun dishes?" Jean's tone seemed respectful, and curious. While a few people at the table wanted to chuckle. Jean liked to try and cook, but she really wasn't very good at anything but pancakes. Even Scooters cooking was better most of the time.

"He is, isn't he?" Storm was giving Gambit a look though, as if it was news to her as well, and she didn't appreciate him not telling. A stab of jealousy flared through Jubilee. Was Gambit why she was dressed like that? Were they an item? That man was sin incarnate, she wouldn't know what to do with someone like him.

"Oui. I can cook jus' bout anything. Spicy dishes and deserts be my specialty, but if ya gotta recipe, den I can make it. Why, ya need some help wit' de fine art o puttin a bun in de oven, chere?"

_Wow. He's such a flirt. I think that was a flirt. From the way Scott's frowning, and Jean's not looking at either one of them, it must have been. But Miss Munroe is laughing, and so is the Professor. Why would they do that if he was flirting? I'm sooooo confused._

At least the food was good. And the eye candy in cajun wrapping was even better.

* * *

"You have them all confused, I think." Storm offered, as she stepped out of her bath room, a thin white night gown covering her. Remy just watched her, letting his eyes roam the barely covered form, as he shifted under her blankets, making room for her in the bed.

"Yea, well. Dey got me a lil confused too, so it fair, ain't it?"

Her laughter was muted as she pulled the gown over her head, let it fall onto the floor, and climbed into bed with him, wrapping an arm around him and ruffling his messy hair. Her own was calm, it'd had all the usual combing out she ritually did each night. Gambit shifted, and brushed his face against her hair, and smelled it lightly.

"Like dat shampoo. It smell good. What it be? Shoulda found some for ya while we was travellin." Remy murmured, while wrapping his own arm around her form, pulling her closer.

"I order it from an herbal catalogue. It is quite pleasant. Did anyone see you coming up?"

"It matter if dey did?" He asked curiously. He wasn't sure if she was ashamed he might be here now that her friends were around, or just self conscious. She'd seemed it at lunch and dinner. As if now that her old friends were around, she wasn't quite sure how to deal with him.

"Not at all. Just curious if I'm going to be accosted with more thoughts that I'm sleeping with you."

Remy laughed, and ran his fingers through her hair. "Stormy, hate to break it to ya, but you are sleeping wit' me. In de buff."

She poked him in the side, and gave him an annoyed look. "Yes, but we aren't.. _sleeping_ together, and they will think we are."

"I know. But who cares what dey t'ink? If dey don't understand, dat dere problem. I don' care, but if dey be disrespecting you, I teach dem a lesson." He knew his own tone hardened at that, but he'd never let anyone speak ill of his friends. And Ro was every bit his friend as much as Lapin was, perhaps even more so.

"No one will say anything, Remy. You don't need to teach anyone a lesson. They just all think you're my boyfriend."

"D'accord, Stormy." With that, he shifted a little, until both of them found the comfortable position that each could find sleep in, and he drifted off into sleep. Leaving the slight question in her statement unaswered. He didn't even want to think about it.

* * *

_Was that the attic door?_

_Yes. He's up with 'Ro._

_How can you tell?_

_Static. I can still sense Storm, but it's obscured a bit._

_Oh._

_I don't think it's like we thought though, Scott. The little skim of Ororo's projected thoughts.. She's not thinking about sex, or lust. She's already fading to sleep._

_So they're not sleeping together?_

_No, they are sleeping together. They're not having sex though. _

"What's that mean?" Scott sounded confused. Very very confused.

Jean herself didn't know. She just shrugged, and gave his leg a little kick. "I have no idea. They have some kind of relationship, but I don't think we're going to understand it if those two don't even undertand it themselves. And quit hogging the blankets, Scott Summers, or I will do more then kick you."

"How much more?"

".. rascal."

"Well if they're not having sex, it's our solemn duty to make sure someone gets some tonight."

"Touche, Mr Summers. I agree."

* * *

"So.. dis danger room. I can blow t'ings up, an it not cause any problems, dat what ya saying?"

"That is precisely what I am saying, Gambit. You can work some of your frustrations out in there, and it will allow us to gauge your powers and proficiency levels."

"Oh, de machine, it gauge my proficiency? Ya sure ya don't wanna gauge dat on ya own, Stormy?" Gambit grinned, and licked his lips at her, before shrugging. "A'right. I go blow t'ings up. Show me what dis buncha bolts got. If it too easy, ya know I'm just gonna be hell t'live wit' all day."

"Don't call me Stormy, and get in there." Storm gave his back a light shove, as he stepped through the doors into the Danger Room, that sealed behind him.

_Dis place look boring. Just a buncha metal walls. Dis supposed to be de Danger Room? Sounds kinda disappointing._

* * *

"He's going to wear that trench coat in a danger room session? It could get caught on all sorts of things." Scott was mutering at the control panel.

"It won't be." Storm's voice came from the door way, as she took one of the observation seats. It was a full house today, she could tell. Scott, Jean, Charles, Bobby and Jubilee. "Gambit has a remarkable spatial awareness, and I've never seen him stumble, or come close to getting that duster caught on anything."

"If you say so." Scott still sounded dubious, as he shifted the settings of the danger room, walls being replaced by a junk yard. "Start with one of the trainee runs, Professor?"

"That would be good, Scott." Was his answer, but Storm just grinned and shook her head. If Remy lived up to her expectations, he'd waltz through the program with boredom.

"Okay Gambit. In this scenario there will be a group of anti-mutant protesters chasing a young mutant woman. Your job is to save her, without killing anyone, or letting anyone be killed."

Over the intercom, they heard Gambit chuckling.

A few minutes later, the control booth was filled with speculation.

"Like, oh my god. Did you see that? He took down all five of those schmucks with just his bo-staff. That was awesome, I don't think I've ever seen anyone handle those five that fast." Jubilee gushed.

"There's still ten more, Jubilee." Bobby said sounding sour. Likely jealous over the fact he couldn't take people down like that without using his powers, and even then it was questionable if he could do it that fast or smoothly.

"You mean there were ten more. Look." Jean sounded surprised, but most of them were. Storm included. Gambit summer saulted and half ran up a pile of cars, and at the top he simply jumped through the air. His staff wasn't in hand this time, but instead cards.

"What's he gonna do with those? Paper cut people to death? Now that'd be showing off."

"Oh shut it Jubes, we all know you have a crush on him."

"Bite me, icecube. You're just jealous he's rocking the DR so hard."

"OH WOW." Jubilee squeeled, when those cards glowed, and flew with accuracy, exploding at impact, sending men flying.

"So that's what that glow was.." Scott mumbled.

Ororo just watched with a smile on her lips. She'd been right about him.

As the danger room faded back to normal, Gambit looked up at the booth almost annoyed.

"Dat was it? Dat wasn't even a work out. Ya gonna give me somet'in dat's a real challenge, Cyke, or should I go beat up kiddies an steal dere candy?"

The reactions in the control booth were mixed. Storm laughed, and so did Jean and Jubilee. Bobby frowned, Charles face was flexing between a frown and a grin, and Scott. Well, Scott was gritting his teeth.

"Professor?" "Take him up to X-man levels, Scott. I want to see how well he performs."

"Alright Gambit. This time..."

* * *

When he emerged from the locker room , hair still damp from the shower, he found Storm waiting for him, leaning against the wall. She was smirking that triumphant little look she had sometimes, and held her arm out to him, which he took as they began to walk.

"You impressed them all. Scott was throwing everything he could at you, even some of the scenarios he has problems with by himself. That last one was meant for two people, and you still handled it with an almost perfect score. You do better in there then I do.."

She trailed off, while Remy just smiled at her and gave her hand a squeeze. "Only cuz I'm more a physical fighter den you, Stormy. Sides, being good in a fight ain't anyt'ing huge. All dat stuff was played to my talents, even if de boyscout didn't know it. Ain't got de awe inspirin wide ranging powers like you do."

He wasn't flatering her, they both knew it. He didn't, not about these things. Storm just nodded, and pinched his arm.

"The Professor was amazed. The only person who's done as well in the danger room is Logan, but you topped his scores. He doesn't pay as fine of detail to the parameters of the objectives as you do, he just tries to destroy everything."

"Who Logan be?"

"Another mutant. Professor offered him a teaching job, but he went off to try and find out more about himself. He has memory problems, and he's trying to find out how to regain them. No, not amnesia. Things were done to Logan."

"Oh. Well, dat sucks."

"It does. So what do you think of the school?" While they walked, Remy noticed she'd led him in a direction he hadn't been before. When he arched a brow at her, she murmured a sole word. 'Gardens'.

Once they passed the water sealed doors into her gardens, Remy was surprised at the greenery, the flowers. He knew his Stormy had a green thumb, but not this big of one. It was a pleasant place, and it smelled of the earth and natural things. Just like Storm always did. A smile spread across his lips as he inhaled, and let her lead him through the rows of plants.

"Being overwhelmed by my garden won't get you out of answering the question, Remy." Her tone containing a bit of warning, if he didn't answer. For his part, he just laughed and gave her hand a squeeze.

"Wasn't avoiding de question, chere. Was really just overwhelmed by de garden. It beautiful. As for de school.. It nice. Kinda peaceful, but bet it ain't so much when de students are here. Nice place, good place for kids ta grow up. Dunno. Scott ain't so bad, considering how far up his ass dat stick be wedged. Jean seem nice enough, and her cooking improved de last few days I bet. She got a funny sense of humor, and don't get too offended when I get crude, always a good t'ing."

A shrug of his shoulders.

"Dunno bout de Professor. He seem nice enough like, but we ain't talked much. Iceboy seem t'be about as immature as I expect from a teenager, an Jubilee.. ain't too bad, when she remembers to stop drooling at me. Been tempted t'give her a lil empathic nudge so she quit dat shit."

He was surprised at Storm's laughter at his predicament, as she patted his back. "Poor Remy. The desire of teenage lust."

"Ain't funny. You try being an empath an have dat much raw lust pointed at ya. Teenagers scary like dat, Stormy. As if I go for jail bait." He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I could talk with her..."

"If ya want too, Stormy. Dunno if it do much good. Make t'ings easier on my mental shields though."

"So you like it here?"

"Yeah. I t'ink I do. Not entirely sure, but.. yeah. It kind of a nice place." His lack of certainty was apparently audible, because Ororo stopped them, and looked him in the eyes.

"Are you going to stay?"

"Few more days, chere. Den I go." His finger pressed her lips to silence her. "Need to get away for a bit. I need ta have some space t'decide, Ororo. Never been able to let go of Hearth and Home from anywhere but at the location. You ask me to stay here, I gotta be able to let go of New Orleans. A couple weeks away, so that when I come back, I know I made de right decision. Otherwise I be like a caged bird here, an always wondering if I shouldn't be somewhere else."

Ororo was quiet, her lips compressed.

"Ya understand, chere?"

"As much as I ever understand you, Remy LeBeau. But if you need to leave and come back, then you need to leave and come back. You** will** however call me every other night, or once a week at the very least while you are gone. Do you understand me?"

"D'accord, Stormy. I understand ya, crystal clear like. Now den, I saw dere a swimming pool out back.."

* * *

"So the cajun is gone?" Bobby asked, as he dropped down next to Jubilee and picked up one of the game remotes.

"Yup. Left an hour ago, was a big good bye deal."

"You don't sound very happy about it."

"I'm not. He was cool. Mysterious, dangerous, extremely hot, and he didn't have the major 'tude that Logan has. It'd have been pretty interesting to have him around."

"You don't sound like you'll think he'll come back."

"Would you, Bobby? That guy.. he could probably do whatever he wants, have anyone he wants. He's loaded too, you see the car and bike he bought? Storm said he paid for them flat out. If you had all that stuff going for you, would you come back to a private school of teenage mutants?"

"Uhh. I dunno. I guess probably not. I have no idea what I would do."

"Me neither. It'd be something cool though. One thing I picked up from him before he left. He gave me these glasses, you know? He said that whatever you do, do it with style."

"Why'd he give you the shades?"

Jubilee smirked. "Cuz they match my jacket, Bobby. Cuz they match my jacket."

* * *

Ororo frowned at the pile of clothes. She'd need to add another closet to her attic. Right now she didn't have anywhere else to put them – not without mingling them with all of her own clothes. She supposed she could move some of the clothes about in the dresser, but she liked how everything was laid out now. Yes, she would just get another dresser, and have her closet extended.

She knew that others were probably wondering if Remy would return. Ororo never doubted he'd come back. He had no where else to go. He couldn't stay with his family, they had duties. He wasn't happy with the life as a wanderer. He knew he wasn't accomplishing what he could with that path.

He would come back.

_Ororo?_

_Yes Professor? _

_I just wanted to see how you were handling Gambit's departure._

_I'm fine Charles. He'll be back when he's ready to be here. He just has to realize it. _

_I share your faith in our young companion. Do you think he could teach?_

_Teach? Yes. He could. The question is more if you would let him. He's a scoundrel, Charles._

_I noticed. I thought perhaps he would be able to handle home ec, he seemed to like cooking, or perhaps French or taking some of the burden of mechanics off Scott._

_He speaks more then French, Charles. A lot more. Which he'd like to do though, we'll have to figure out when he comes back._

_Of course. Of course. And Ororo? _

_Yes Charles?_

_We have to pick the children up from the air port tomorrow, so don't be up too late._

* * *

Gambit had been one of the oddest men he'd ever met. He wasn't sure that he liked him, but he found he could respect him. He did things his own way, and damned to other people if they couldn't come to terms with it. He at least wasn't as insulting as Logan had been, and he wasn't lusting after his girlfriend. Oh, he made crude comments to Jean, and Jean to him, but Scott hadn't ever felt a pang of jealousy.

He'd figured out soon enough it was just the cajuns way, and there was no danger of it becoming a serious fliration with Jean. The fact he spent every night in Ororo's attic, even if Jean said they never did anything, made it less a concern. Although he didn't like the way Jubilee practically drooled at the cajun, or constantly made inappropriate comments. Yet he'd been surprised at the way the Thief had skillfully deflected them, or never shown any sign of actually considering taking advantage.

A very good sign, if the man came back to the school. Having an adult they couldn't trust with students would be very problematic.

_Do you think he'll come back, Jean?_

_I'm pretty sure he will, Scott. He didn't look like he enjoyed leaving Storm, and he did leave most of his belongings here at the School, and his car. That was a nice bike he bought wasn't it?_

_Why bother leaving, if he's just leaving his things here?_

_Well, he did tell Storm that the car was hers, and she's already moving all of his things into her attic._

_So either he is coming back, or he just wanted to leave Ororo mementoes?_

_Who knows with Gambit? The Professor and I never caught so much as a stray thought from him, but Storm seems awfully sure he'll come back._

_That's because she .. whatever. You saw that kiss when he left._

_It was a chaste kiss, Scott. Just a brush of lips, and it was after he kissed each of her cheeks._

_Still, Storm seemed to think it was something. She kept touching his lips after he left._

_She loves him, Scott. She admitted that the first day. She just doesn't know if she loves him as a brother, or as a lover._

_Oh. You didn't tell me that._

_It was there to be seen, Scott. You men are so blind._

_That doesn't mean he'll come back._

_He might not. Gambit's a free spirit who won't be chained. He might be testing if Storm will come after him._

_I think he already knows the answer to that one, Jean. I don't think he'd press her to make her do it, or make her beg._

_Are you sure about that? What man doesn't like to get a little bit of begging from a woman now and again? Blind to your own genders failings.._

"I'm not that blind.."

"No, but you can be dense. Red neglige or black?"

"Red. Definitely the red." If Scott had learned anything, it was this: When Jean went for the neglige instead of just her night shirt, it meant it was going to be a very interesting night.

"Maybe you're not so dense after all.. I knew there was a reason I loved you."


	15. Weapon X

Why had he left?

He needed to. It wasn't like he had anything to go back to. Beyond a cause. An ideal. Was it one that could even possibly work? He didn't know. Maybe. Then there was the woman factor. Always that factor rearing it's head and haunting. He knew he'd go back.

But not before he found his answers.

"Get outta my way, bub." Logan growled, getting pissed that these hicks were in his way. Damn down country bumpkins didn't know when they out to get the hell out of someones way. He'd just have to teach them.

"What, you think we're afraid of you short stuff? Get outta your way? Yeah, right. Whatcha gonna do, growl at us with that nasty breath?"

"Move or be moved, bub." Logan gave the final warning, shifting his hands. He could feel the claws starting to press at his skin, begging to be released.

"Yeah, you and wha..."

"Now, now, is dat any kind of way t'be showing southern hospitality t'our northern friend? Don't seem like it ta me. Mebbe ya bozos piss off, an leave de welcoming committee t'de people dat remember de meaning of southern hospitality, yeah?"

Logan growled. Now he had some pretty boy punk with a snake-charmers voice fighting his battles for him. A _tall_ pretty boy none the less. Did every single day have to be like this? One god damn frustration after the next?

Surprisingly, the men backed off. Why the hell were they afraid of the tall cajun? Then Logan smelled it. The faint scent of burning atmosphere around him, the scent of many a weapons, the light jangle of weapons.

_Well shit, pretty boy got an armory in that coat a his. What the hell's the burning atmosphere scent though? Oh..._

Logan found himself blinking, when he saw even through the shades he wore, a reddish glow was seeping around the glasses in the darkness surrounding the bar.

"Yea, dat be what I thought. Three... two.." The men scattered. It was one thing to screw with a short northerner, quite another to screw with a mutant. At least, one who had real powers, and not one who's power was a snake tongue.

"Dat ya bike, mon ami?" The cajun asked him, jerking a thumb to one of two Harley's that were parked next to each other.

"Yeah, why?" A touch of suspicion touching his tone.

"Jus' curious. De other one be mine. Ya got good taste."

Logan wanted to laugh. It was a damn good bike. How Scooter had such good taste in bikes he'd never know. Then again, that damn boyscout had everything. Jet was like his baby, the bikes, the cars, he even had Jean... damn Cyclops.

"Whatever bub."

"Eh, like ya say mon ami. Whatever. Was gonna see if ya wanted ta catch a beer, but guess not." The cajun shrugged, and slipped into the bar on his own.

"What the hell..." Logan shrugged, and followed him. _Plus someone this smooth, damn snake charmer, might just know about what I'm looking for..._

* * *

Some hours later, the two walked out of the bar. Damn cajun could hold his beer pretty well. They both had a slight stagger in their steps, but Logan was shaking off the alcohol already, as his healing factor burned through it. Not quite as fast, but just as surely, he'd noticed the cajun sobering up a lot faster then was normal for a human, even a mutant with a fast metabolism.

Sniff. Sniff.

"You actually any good in a fight, Gumbo?"

"Oui. Who we gonna fight mon ami? De purple elephant, it no put up much of a fight ya know."

"Ninja."

"Oh. Gambit no like ninja. Dey always t'row dem damn smoke bombs, an dem smell worse den dat cigar ya was smoking.."

_Chris. Kids loaded, probably couldn't fight even if he was sober, and there's at least ten. At least. Winds from a bad direction.._

"Right kid. Just get on your bike and ride, or get back in the bar. This ain't your fight."

The words were out of his mouth, about the time figures in red began jumping from roof tops.

"Uh, mon ami? Dem de Hand.. whatcha do to piss dem off?" There was the jangle of his coat again. Maybe the kid could fight. Logan didn't have time to worry, as his claws unsheathed and he dashed forward to meet the first of the approaching figures in red.

Logan heard the sounds of a scuffle behind him, and to his surprise none of the thuds that he heard when he glanced were the cajun. Instead he was brandishing a bo-staff almost as long as him, and holding his own against multiple assailants at once.

_Damn. Kid ain't that bad after all._

"You wish, bub." He snarled, and flicked his hand back, taking one of the Hand members in the chest who tried to attack him from behind, before whirling back to face those ahead of him. They knew how to fight, but that didn't save them against his claws that cut right through their own weapons like a knife through butter.

What he wasn't counting on however, was when darts started puncturing his arms. He started laughing at that at first. "Heh. Poison? Shoulda done yer homework.." But the words died on his lips. He could feel it, and it was strong. It was going to slow his healing down a lot, maybe too much, and he could feel his energy starting to lesson. Then red clad figures were swarming...

And explosions rocketed the night, scattering them, it repeated a few times, but then they were swarming towards the source of all those explosions. The Cajun.

Logan couldn't help him, he was still facing off against a number of his own.

Somehow, they were both still standing, but it was becoming a downward battle until a figure in black leapt from a roof top, and began to wade into the action. At first the Hand were unaware of her, it had to be a her, from that scent, the way the black shifted at her chest. That was one of the Hand's weaknesses. They rarely talked, rarely even screamed. In this case, it meant they went down from behind without raising a cry.

When they did notice a third opponent had joined the fray, the tides had already shifted. Logan had time to start ripping into the cajuns opponents from behind, even though it cost him a number of wounds, and the figure in black tore into the opponents that came against her. She seemed to dance in and out of combat, sticking mostly to range and her shuuriken, but occasionally the blade on her belt flashed and dueled.

* * *

When the last of them fell, Logan was panting, and sitting on the ground, waiting for his body to purge all the poisons. The cajun had slipped into the bar, to grab two beers, and when he returned he tossed one to Logan, and dropped onto the ground near him. Seemingly uncaring at the bodies.

Then again, the cajun had known they were Hand. He couldn't be a total novice. The black clad figure just observed them both from the shadows, before shaking her head and stalking forward.

"You draw trouble to you, Logan-san. Then, you always have. Having the Hand sent out after you yet again, after all these years."

Logan just looked confused, while Gambit was looking suddenly interested in his beer bottle.

"Of course. I was told of your amnesia. And you, Cajun. You were not an expected sight, but not an unwelcome one. Hello, Remy."

The cajun just nodded, Logan saw, when the figure pulled off her mask and smiled at the cajun. "Been a while, Yukio."

"Ya know this girl, cajun?"

"Well, dat probably be why I'm callin her Yukio, eh? Yeah, I do. Logan, Yukio, Yukio, Logan. He's a Canadian who likes beer, she's a thief and a ronin."

"We should move, before authorities notice the remanents of the fight." Yukio gestured towards their bikes, and then smirked. "Now."

* * *

An hour later, the three sat around a camp fire. Yukio had ridden behind him on his bike, where as now she sat next to him, while he smoked a cigarette and looked at the burning flames. He still felt an attraction to Yukio, maybe even fondness, but the emotions that might have gone to her were gone now. Something had shifted that connection, and he couldn't see her as more then a friend. He also didn't find himself considering bedding her, which troubled him. Why wouldn't he? He had in the past, it'd been enjoyable, and it wasn't as if he was seeing anyone.

Was he?

Introspection ended though, as realized the other two were talking.

"So you see Logan, the Hand were dispatched to bring you to someone. I was dispatched to make sure that did not happen. Rather handsomely paid to boot. You should see the money you can make in the protection racket, Remy."

The way she smiled at him scared him. Not only because it was a friendly smile, but because of the various emotions she radiated every time she looked at him. It seemed to be disturbing Logan too. The sharp variances in love, hate, sometimes mellowed to just a fondness. It was odd. Probably why he disliked running into his exes. They always felt like that.

"So, someone hired a buncha ninja to come after me, and someone – who you won't tell me who – hired you to make sure they failed. Sounds kinda suspect if ya ask me. Whatcha think bub?"

Remy was surprised the shorter man was asking him, but he just shrugged. "Yukio can be trusted ma petite homme. She is what she say she is, a t'ief and a ronin, and she got her own sense of honor."

Yukio was giving him an odd look at that, but Remy kept his gaze on Logan.

"So what happens now? Do they just keep coming after me, or will they quit now that they failed?" Logan sounded out of his element, which Remy was somewhat confused by. If the man had the Hand after him, and from how Yukio initially addressed him, he had ties to Japan. Should've known about this stuff. But didn't.

"No. They won't give up that easily. You have two choices, Logan. You can just kill them when they come after you – but they've been briefed on how to fight you, or you can kill whoever paid them to go after you. Once the origin of a contract is dead, especially a contract like they put on you, just for kidnapping, they withdraw. They can't very will kidnap you if the person who wanted you is dead."

"I like that last option. Take out the bastard who's got em after me. Ya know who put em on me?"

"A former military man by the name of John Wraith. I do not know who or how he has any connection to you, only that he is after you." Yukio supplied.

"Cajun?" "Never heard of him."

"Any ideas on how we find this jackass?"

"Nope. Not a clue. But the cajun could find him."

Logan blinked, looked at her, then at the cajun, who was looking sadly at the empty six pack he'd brought with from the bar.

"Cajun?"

"I can make some inquiries. If dere any t'ing dat can be turned up about him, den we find out what it is."

"What are you cajun? CIA? NSA? Yer not a foreign service, your accent and scent is American."

Yukio was laughing, and Remy just sighed. "None of de above. Somet'in far better. T'ieves Guild."

"Aw shit. Two thieves, one a ronin, and one a Guild member. Tonights been a real bitch."

Gambit just laughed. "No shit mon ami, no shit. Well, I better make some phone calls if ya wanna get started on dis soon, which I'm guessin ya do... excuse me." Pulling his cell out, Remy slipped away from the others. He'd call Jean-Luc after he made another phone call first.

He was due for a phone call to Ororo. It was only 6am in New York, but she wouldn't mind. Plus it'd pass some time so he wasn't calling Jean-Luc at god awful times of the morning, and besides. He wanted to hear Stormy's voice for some reason.

* * *

"So, how ya know the cajun?" Logan was eying her with distrust, and she just smiled lightly back.

"I met him in Japan. We spent some time together."

"Oh. That's why your scent is so neurotic."

"Excuse me?"

"Ya still got a thing fer the cajun, don'tcha girl?"

".. it is none of your business, what my emotions are. I am being paid to safeguard you from the Hand, not to be your friend."

"Have it your way sister, but the cajun looks like he's moved on if you ask me. Maybe you should do the same."

Yukio just scowled at him, grabbed one of the blankets, picked a spot of ground, and pulled it over her. Asshole. What did he know about Remy? It was none of his business anyway. If Remy still didn't want her, well. She'd just let it go then. She'd spent too long feeling the aching lack of him at nights, or missing his scent in the bed. She hadn't even been able to look at another man, knowing they wouldn't compare to him.

Besides, there was no reason for him to not want her. He seemed to be more at peace now, more collected. Like he wasn't running anymore. Maybe he'd be willing to reconsider her offer now. They'd had good times before, hadn't they?

If not, well. Maybe she'd just kill him. That'd be one way to get over him, wouldn't it?

* * *

"Hope ya packed a jacket, Yukio." Remy informed the other two, as he strode back to the camp site they picked a days travel from the last. The cajun was grinning, Jean-Luc had come through in a big bad way this time, and in a lot quicker order then Remy had figured he would be able too.

"What ya talking about gumbo?" "You could always keep me warm, Remy.."

"Found ya 'friend' John Wraith. He got a place in Colorado, little mountain retreat. Survivalist style. Has his own power generator an everything. So ya want to see this through, we going to de Rockies. As for keepin ya warm chere, from what I remember ya better at dat den I am."

Two different reactions. Logan nodding, while Yukio just frowned at him.

"If we going, let's get gone."

Logan frowned. "Why you coming cajun? Just give me the info, wash yer hands of this. No reason to get involved."

"Would if I could, mon ami. After I got involved de ot'er night, dis ass included me into his contract wit' you. Père was awful pissed about dat, an even de Assassins Guild warned de Hand dey better watch demselves."

At the confused look from the two, although Yukio's was also concerned Remy sighed.

"I'm de son in law of de head of de Assassins Guild. Not dat dat means much, wit' Bella dead, but de fact of de matter is, if anyone kills me, ol Maruius t'inks it should be him dat does de deed."

"Oh." "Shit cajun, how many pissed off exes and fathers you got out there after your ugly hide?"

"Heh. More den I care to t'ink about, Logan. More den I care to t'ink about." Candra, Vertigo, Arclight, Assassins, shit, possibly even Yukio. But he said he'd go with, when he mentioned Logan to Storm and she asked him to watch out for him... and that was before it got personal.

Yukio was just frowning at him, and then leaning forward so her shirt tightened. As if testing if his eyes would go down her shirt or not. He looked, chuckled, and went to get his bike ready. Behind him, he could sense Yukio's confusion at his reaction to her almost blatant offer, and his looking but doing nothing.

* * *

"Any word from our enterprising young thief, Ororo?"

"A call a few nights ago Charles. It seems Gambit ran into Logan, and he has some trouble from his past after him again."

"Oh? Is it anything they need help with?" Charles frowned. Gambit sure did seem to get around. Almost a kanck for falling into trouble, if what he'd heard about the thief was true. It was odd to think that a man so young was already a legend.

"He didn't seem to think so, Charles. But then, Gambit wouldn't think he needed help even if he was going up against Magneto alone."

"I see. So you want to go help them?"

"I do. An old friend is with them that I haven't seen since that mission we did in Japan last year, and they may need my help."

"Well, there is nothing going on currently. Jean has the flu, and Scott and I can handle the students by ourselves. Take the Black Bird."

"Thank you, Charles."

"Of course Ororo. Say hello to Logan for me, and see if he's considering coming back yet."

"I will." They both grinned a little. If for different reasons. Ororo because she couldn't imagine Logan ever staying for more then a month or two at a time, and Charles because he rather imagined she'd be more focussed on bringing Gambit back to them. He'd only been gone two weeks now, but he knew there was a desperate sense of feeling incomplete, or missing him, within her.

Jean had even complained to him about being unable to shield the projected thoughts from Ororo, while she was sick with the flu. But then, Jean had complained of a number of such things with her mental shields weakened by being sick. A house full of teenagers was as painful to a telepath as it was to an empath.

* * *

"Why'd you flag us to pull over, Cajun? We got quite a bit of light yet, could get another hundred miles yet." Logan groused as they parked at the rest area, well in the clear he noticed. What was the cajun up too now?

"Cell phone was going off. Can't talk while riding mon ami. Gimme a minute." With that, Gambit pulled is cell out and slipped away from him and Yukio. Where Yukio was frowning at nothing.

"What's your problem now?"

"Remy, of course. You.. may have been right. He seems to have moved on, or not be interested. I've made .. gestures.. and he has ignored them all. I even.." Yukio trailed off. Which Logan was thankful for. He somehow had the feeling she'd tried something pretty brazen, and the cajun had turned her down. Maybe that's what caused the minor swerve in their riding about a half hour ago.

"Stuck yer hands down his pants, didn't ya?" Logan wasn't able to resist, and knew he'd been right when her face went aflame from a blush.

"Why ya call him Remy all the time? He insisted I just call him cajun or Gambit."

"I have heard you call him Gambit. I have wondered... but I suppose. It makes sense." Yukio looked disappointed once again, and Logan felt confused.

"What's such a big deal about the name Gambit?"

She frowned at him. "You must listen to the currents more, Logan. To the whispers in the shadows. You would benefit highly from this. Remy LeBeau is the Prince of Thieves. He is widely regarded as the third best thief in the world, despite his age. The second is his father, Jean-Luc LeBeau. The first best thief is Gambit. For a while now, no one has known that the elusive legendary Gambit is in fact Remy."

Logan was shaking his head. "The kids that good? You got a few years on him, yer a thief. You tell me."

"He is that good. I rank in at fifth, by most estimations. I may have more experience, but he has the skill, and he is not so inexperienced as you might think. He's been groomed for it since he was a child, while the rest of us usually start later in life."

Logan shook his head. Damned thieves were weird.

But he was distracted by a cough, as Gambit came back.

"We go up de road about a mile, deres an exit ramp. Bout four miles past de town t'de south dere a real big open field. We getting a lift t'Colorado from dere."

Both Logan and Yukio looked at him in confusion. Logan was glad he wasn't the only one. Damned thieves.

"A ride from who, cajun? I don't like secrets."

"From a friend, Logan. From a friend. Stormy, she pick us up dere in dat fancy jet ya'll fly around."

Yukio gasped, and Logan frowned. Stormy? Storm? This kid was getting calls from Ororo, and calling her Stormy? Shit. What had gone wrong with the world, that it turned upside down like this.

Yukio he noticed looked even more confused then him. Oh well, as long as she didn't try and stab the cajun.

"Let's roll."

* * *

"Hello Logan." He was the first one up the ramp, pushing his Harley ahead of him, and then leading it aside to the cargo hold to begin strapping it in. All she got in answer him was a gruff mumble she didn't even catch. She had to imagine his nerves must be getting to him, but being around Gambit could do that to anyone.

Next came Remy, pushing his bike up, but once he was up, she pulled him into a hug. "I missed you, Remy." "Missed you too, Stormy. Lemme get dis bike lashed up, den we talk an get going, yeah?"

She nodded, and he pushed the bike the way Logan had gone, and Storm turned to find Yukio pushing a hug on her. "Heya 'Ro. How have you been? You know the cajun too? Is there anyone who doesn't?"

That was Yukio. A bright energetic free spirit. In a way, she reminded her a lot of Gambit. But there was a nervousness in Yukio, and that's when she remembered. Part of the story, his full history Remy had told her. Yukio. Japan. She felt her heart tighten, and she wasn't sure for which of them it was. Remy, Yukio... or hereself.

"I've been well, Yukio. I met Remy a few months ago. He saved my life.. and well. I lost my memory for a while, and he played Knight in Shining Armor to me. How do you know him?" She knew Yukio, and the answer was likely to be blunt. But.. she had to know how the other woman would respond. If there was going to be trouble between her and Remy. _Oh Bright Lady, what am I going to do if there is trouble between them?_

"Oh. I met his worthless hide in Japan. I shacked up with him for a bit, and then we got into this competitive tiff, and like the scoundrel he is, he ran away when I was starting to like him. That's just the way he is." Yukio was eying her though, Storm noticed. Her tone sounded bitter, and Storm wasn't sure why. It didn't seem to be directed at her, but at Remy.

"Oh.. Well. He has had a... colorful past?" Was the only political way she could answer it. For some reason, she felt a stab of jealousy at Yukio admitting she'd slept with Remy. _What is going on with me? He's a brother, not my lover. Yukio is a friend, I should be happy if they had found happiness together._

* * *

"Cajun, you finished strapping that bike in four minutes ago."

"Yup, I did. You been done for six. Got a point?"

"Afraid to go out there, huh?"

"You blame me, mon ami? Soon as Yukio heard Stormy's name, she went cold like towards me. Rather not get stabbed wit' one of dem knives, sword, or shuriken dat she carry ya know."

"Jealousy, gumbo. Jealousy. She reaked of it. So you been with one, she still wants you, and is getting pissed cuz she ain't had you. Storm don't got that rabid smell to her though, and she ain't reaking of lust like most women do when they see ya. What you got going on with her, swamp rat? Ya hurt her, I got you."

One of his claws extended, to make the point.

"Ain't got no intention of hurting Stormy, so you don't need t'be threatening me."

"You didn't answer the question, cajun."

"You t'ink I got de answer, mon ami? You probably got more a clue den I do. You known 'Ro longer den me." Gambit shrugged, and apparently decided bearing the womens wrath was better then the look in his eyes, because he walked out.

"Aww shit. Thieves, **and** a love triangle. I'm gonna kick Scott's ass. This is all his fault somehow."

* * *

Awkward situations. High Tension. That was a good way to describe the cock pit area of the Black Bird. Ororo's scent was changing on and off. She had something for the cajun. The cajun smelled guilty whenever he looked at Yukio, and of something else that he couldn't quite name when he looked at Storm. Then there was Yuko. She liked Storm, but smelled of jealousy and whenever she looked at Gambit, it seemed to be a mix of regret and hate.

Awkward didn't cover it by half. Then there was him. He smelled like beer. _Small favor I had the brains to grab a six pack at that last gas station. _

Belch.

"Logan." Yup, that'd be Storm lecturing him, which he just ignored. The cajun was playing solitaire on the drop down from the seat in front of his, and Yukio was sharpening her weapons.

It was a relief in the horrible situation when Storm finally said. "We have visual now. Deaccelerating, and putting us into a holding pattern over it. Do you have a plan, Logan?"

In answer, Logan popped his claws. _Snikt_. "Only plan I ever got, 'Ro."

"Shit. If dat de extent of ya plan, mon ami.." Gambit was shaking his head and sounded disappointed.

He smelled it too. Bastard had probably heard the black ops rumors about Wolverine, and was expecting a better plan then just gutting Wraith.

"What's this tub of bolts say about the place, 'Ro?"

"Not a whole lot, Logan. It looks like what it is. A remote mountain home. There's about fifteen heat signatures down there though, but I do not see any wepaons emplacements.

"Right, then here's what we do. You summon up a bit of weather to make em blind, and set us down a bit above the visual your weather will obscure. Three of us will go in.. there." He pointed at the entrance that looked like a back door to the home, with fewer heat signatures around it.

"You give us eyes in the sky, and keep any of 'em from retreating."

Storm smelled unhappy, but she nodded. "Very well. I will give you cover. Good luck."

* * *

Of course, things never went that smoothly. The back entry way had worked, but they encountered opposition quickly. Logan had leapt immediately into the fray, and told the other two to go the other way. With rolls of their eyes, they had.

His adamantium bo-staff flicked easily in his hands, and Yukio seemed taken back by the fact he'd just managed to deflect bullets from them, but it was only momentarily, while her shurikens took the attackers down while Gambit wove a defense with his staff.

He just offered her a smile, before they plunged from one room of the sprawling mountain home to the next. These weren't just ordinary goons they were facing off against. Whoever this John Wraith was, he was surrounded by spec ops quality military trained men, equipped none too lightly. Even their body armor was military grade.

"Down." Remy commanded, and when Yukio didn't immediately drop, he dragged her down with him, as bullets spewed through the air they'd just been in.

"How?"

"Spatial awareness." Gambit murmured to her, as he charged a card, and sent it sailing through the door way ahead of them, followed by three more.

"You're sucking at stealth today, cajun."

"Yea well, Logan howling and cutting peoples guts open while they screamed seemed to show dat stealth was out de window... de cards took down de guys in de next room. Can only sense one guy up ahead of us, den we should be able to loop around and meet up wit' Logan I t'ink."

"Well, let's get this done with. I have a job to do." Her voice going icy, when she remembered to be mad at him. Remy just followed, wanting to sigh.

He did sigh, a few minutes later, when he saw just who, or rather what, the last person was. His arms glinted with steel, and wearing thick body armor. _Oh just great. All I need to run into, be a cyborg. Why life hate me like dis?_

Before Yukio could jump at him, Remy threw two charged cards, hoping to end this fast. Unfortunately, the man just shifted his arms to catch and quash the cards in his hands, the explosions seemingly contained by the cybernetics somehow.

"Aw shit." Those two words were all the time it took for Yuko to leap in with her sword, and Remy was following right behind with his staff. What resulted wasn't what either hoped for. Remy gaped when the man seemed to be able good enough to block both of their attacks simultaneously with those metallic arms. Even more disturbing was the arms didn't dent from the blows of his adamantium staff.

"Sonnabitch."

"My mother wasn't a bitch, mutant." Clang, clang. Shit. This guy was good.

"Non? You sure bout dat. Pretty sure I was wit' her de other night, an she wasn' even wort' ten bucks."

A roar of a growl erupted from the man, and even though he'd blocked the blow, Remy found himself hurled across the room into a wall. It stung, but the impact provided him with a huge surge of kinetic energy, his eyes alighting with the glow.

Yukio hadn't fared so well he could see though. She was in a heap near another wall. Shit.

"Well, guess it up to me to finish dis." Pushing himself off the wall, his staff began to glow, and the fight rejoined in all honesty, each swipe of his staff caused an explosion that knocked the cyborg back.

"My name is Garrison Kane." The cyborg told him admist the fight.

"So what?"

"I just thought you should know your killers name."

* * *

Logan was getting annoyed. These spec op soldiers weren't bad, but he wasn't wasting the time with anything fancy. Already he'd been shot up, and quite a few bullets had been pushed out of his body by the healing factor. He'd left quite a few of them dead in his wake though.

It was almost anticlimactic, really, when he entered the study to find a grey haired old colonel sitting behind the desk.

"Ahh. Wolverine. I never really thought you would come to me. Obviously it's my lucky day."

"Yeah right, bub. You're about to be dead. What'd ya want me for, besides for a fast death?"

Wraith just laughed, but Logan smelled someone else. A concealed panel opened, revealing a man in gold and black body armor that seeme familiar. The gun in his hands looked nasty too, and it felt nasty he found out when a round pierced his leg.

"I don't suppose you remember old Maverick here, do you? Oh well. It won't matter soon." Wraith laughed, as the two mutants began to fight across his office.

Logan found that one thing was bad. Every time he struck the man, he seemed to get stronger. Worse, whenever he found a chink in that armor, the wounds seemed to heal up. Not as fastly as his own did, but still quickly. No good.

What he had not been expecting, was when the figures fists began to glow, and energy blasts rippled out crushing him into a wall.

_Oh yeah. This is gonna be real fun._

With a snarl, Logan flung himself across the room, and dropped pretenses, going for the throat so to speak. Claws finding purchase in calfs to hamstring his opponent, a punch to the jaw, and while those blows reigned upon him, over time he worked a gap into the chest armor, and ran a claw along the mans gut, causing him to double over.

He didn't hesitate. Moments later he was hurling across the room at Wraith.

* * *

"So... you think.. you're going.. to beat me..?"

Gambit was breathing heavily. Sure, his body was getting more energy every move, but he still had to breath, and pulling oxygen into his lungs while moving and whirling his staff was actually a lot more work than one might think it was. Using his Bo-staff as a boom-stick was working better then using it regularly had. Charred spots showed on those solid metal arms, and the mans body armor was starting to look a lot worse for the wear.

The real problem was, Gambit wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. Over time, he might win, but it'd only take one screw up.

Of course, that was about the time he noticed Yukio was back up, and skulking in the shadows. Time to take a gamble she wouldn't want him dead. Twirling his staff, he went into all out attack, the explosions growing in intensity, until he scored a blast right at the cyborgs chest armor, but it cost him getting swiped into a wall once more.

"Sonofa... Dat hurts, ya know dat?" That's right, you SOB. Look at me. Look at me.

The cybor was looking at him, and advancing with a twisted grin. He never even noticed Yukio slipping up behind him, or her sword cutting his throat from behind. Gambit looked away from the blood, and began to stumble towards the door way out of the room.

"Remy."

He stopped at her voice, as she approached. She had a grin, and her sword was sheathed again.

"Yeah chere?"

"Thanks for trusting me." His back hit the wall as she pounced him, and her lips sealed against his. Her leg shifted between his own, teasing his lower body expertly as she had many times in Japan, while their lips caressed, and tongues danced.

He shouldn't be, he didn't want to be, but her feelings were washing over him. Just when he thought she was about to drag them onto the floor to make love then and there, it ended. Not with a knee to his groin, or a slap. Just her lips pulling back as she breathed heavily, and he felt one of her knives at his throat.

"That was for old times. This.. Consider this a warning, cajun. If you ever hurt Ororo the way you hurt me, I will come after you. Do you understand me?"

"I do." He didn't bother to say more. She didn't want to hear it. Telling her if it wasn't for 'Ro, he might have come back to her would just add salt to her wounded feelings, and he didn't even know if it was true. He didn't even know if he felt that way for Stormy the way everyone seemed to think he did.

Certainly, Stormy didn't seem to feel that way for him. He could find out, all it would take is one glimpse at her emotions, but.. he had promised himself he wouldn't do that with her, way back when she was just Stormy, before she remembered she her name was Ororo, and she was a hero.

* * *

Logan's fight was going considerably worse. The wounds he'd given the armored figure should've kept him occupied, given him some time. But no, even as he jumped at Wraith, those damned energy blasts sent him sailing out the window. What he wasn't expecting was when the wind caught him, held him, and pushed him back inside of the same window.

Storm. Of course. Perhaps the largest surprise was when lightning bolts sailed in right past him, striking the figure until in armor until it wasn't moving anymore.

_Shit. Remind me not to piss her off. _Shaking his head, Logan smirked advancing on Logan.

"You don't know what you're doing Logan."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing Wraith. Now ya got two choices. You can talk before you die, or you can just die."

"I think I'd rather see you suffer not having answers, then telling you anything you animal. You'll never be more then just a filthy mutant animal, Wolverine. Remember tha...ack."

Logan just shrugged. Hard to talk without a throat. A shrug of his shoulders, he started poking around the office. Nothing that looked like much use.

"Ya know mon ami, dis looks like an awful mess.." The cajun murmured as him and Yukio stepped in. For some reason Yukio smelled like sex, while the cajun just smelled tired. He'd never understand these people.

"Try the computer, Cajun. I assume you.. yeah you do." Logan shook his head when the cajun began digging through files like a pro. Yukio was leafing through books.

"So who'd you have a fight with, Logan?" The female thief asked him, and Logan gave a start realizing the man in body armor was gone.

"Eh, just some schmuck. Musta crawled away to bleed to death in the snow. No big loss. How about you two? You get up to some excitement?" Logan was grinning at her, but Gambit wasn't paying attention.

For some reason, Yukio looked ashamed of herself, then just shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, just a metal armed freak of a cyborg. There's nothing on the shelves."

"Anything on the computer cajun?"

"Nada. Just a few references ta something called Weapon X, but otherwise dere ain't jack shit here. Except for some dirty emails back and forth from dis Wraith loser an some woman. Not even a cipher, it's just really bad porn." The cajun was laughing while shaking his head.

"Can pull the drive if ya want or think someone back at de school get more out of it?"

"Nah. Just blow it up. Can ya take most of this place out with it?"

"D'accord. Go catch de ride, an have a line dropped from de bird.. I can't delay a charge dat big for more den thirty seconds..."

* * *

Storm frowned when they told her what they wanted, but she manuevered the black bird over the window Logan had flown out before, while Logan tossed out line from the Black Bird so it would hang just outside the window.

Not long after, Gambit hurled himself from the window to grasp the line, and began climbing up it while Logan pulled it in, and as soon as he was almost in, she accelerated. Even from half a mile away, the explosion Remy had created was very impressive, impressive enough to cause them air turblance for seconds.

Once they were up in the air though, she tapped auto-pilot on with a course towards New York, and slipped out of the pilots seat to stalk back, wrap Remy LeBeau on a tight hug, and kissed his cheek. "Don't you go worrying me like that, Gambit. If you'd been a few seconds slower, or I had been on accelerating, you – or we all – could have been caught in that!"

Remy surprised her. He was laughing. "Nah. Never happen Stormy. I trust you. You wouldn't let me get m'self offed dat way." His arms were still around her, and they felt very very nice.

That cocky grin of hers was infectious, and the trouble in his eyes was too. Storm wasn't sure when it had happened, but she found their lips were pressed together in a series of kisses, and his hand was on her rear end, squeezing and holding her against him while they shared their first real kiss.

The startling fact, was when she realized she was on her tip toes, and while his hands were supporting her while their tongues pressed at each other.. it had been her that leaned up to kiss those red lips that had been almost taunting her.

It was Logan's gruff voice that pulled both of them back to reality. "Get a room, you two." The gruff short man was sticking a cigar between his lips, and patting himself for a lighter. Storm shook her head, grinned at the cajun, and pinched his rear before stepping away.

_That will teach him to touch my ass like that in public. Really, what has gotten into him. Man handling me in front of Logan and Yukio._ After all, clearly it had been man-handling, even if she'd initiated the kiss. There was a brief memory of just where one of her legs had been rubbing against, and her cheeks turned red. "I.. better get back to the cockpit."

"Aww. Stormy, I never seen you blush like dat. Tres belle. Tres Belle."

"Do not call me that silly name, Gambit." She didn't look back as she stalked into the cockpit, but she could hear him chuckling and smelled him lighting a cigarette and Logan's cigar. That was Scott's problem, not hers.

* * *

Yukio watched the kiss with hooded eyes. However, it didn't affect her in the way she thought it would. She found herself smiling a little, and it was as if a spell had been broken on her. Did she still care for Remy? Yeah, she always would love him to some extent. She found herself still hating him some as well, but it was lessened.

Him and Storm fit, maybe. It would do Ororo good to have a free spirit like the cajun in her life. She'd always told the Wind Rider she needed to loosen up and let her hair down. With Remy, she wouldn't have much choice in the matter.

There was also a surge of guilt in her. She'd briefly entertained the idea of telling Storm what had happened in the room, but refrained. Gambit hadn't even done anything to her, besides kissed back, and let his hands run along her. He hadn't even been that into it, not the way he used to be. But there was no point in shaming herself and telling Ororo she'd managed to get off on what appeared to be her boyfriends leg in that kiss.

Stupid LeBeau and his stupid tongue, and those stupid hands.

She was looking forward to getting back to Japan. Which.. if she wanted to do that, she better get 'Ro to drop her off in Mississippi. That's where most of her kit still was, she'd make her own way from there.

* * *

Remy watched as Logan sauntered down the black bird steps, a cigar lit and puffing smoke into the air. It was a real saunter, practically a swagger. The Canadian was an odd fellow. A cigarette hung lit between his own lips, but as he moved to step down the steps, an arm wrapped around his hip, and he felt Stormy at his side. They hadn't talked much on the flight back, after the kiss.

He wasn't sure what to expect. She'd certainly been into the kiss, after she leaned up and shoved her lips to his. Her arm around him wasn't the same way it used to be either. She used to just take his hand as they walked. This was much more possessive, but at the same time, it felt that same easy going companionship. It was just evolving. A further step.

As they walked down the ramp together, they saw Logan was already talking to the Professor and Scott, and the bald man looked up.

"Welcome home, all three of you." Logan just laughed, but Storm was smiling.

Remy had to admit, he found himself grinning too. He'd found his answers, in the time he'd went back home, with Yukio, and his little adventure. The kiss from Storm had just sealed the deal, really.

"Merci beaucoup." Remy replied, meaning it. He turned his eyes to meet his Stormy's, and she seemed to understand when she arched an eyebrow, and he nodded.

"Professor Xavier, I'd like to introduce you to the newest X-man. Remy LeBeau, Charles Xavier."

Scott Summers looked like someone had slapped him, Logan was still just laughing, and Charles had that little grin he was trying to not show.

"As I said. Welcome home, Mr LeBeau."

--

**Authors Note:** This is not the ending. What comes next? You'll just have to wait and see. The students are back though, so it's time for more then just Jubilee and Bobby to meet Gambit, amongst other things. I doubt the Storm/Gambit pairing was any real surprise, since I've been setting that up for the last few chapters, without any attempt to hide it.


	16. Teenagers

"So where did Miss Munroe go, that she took the jet?" Kitty Pryde asked, as she dropped into the cafeteria table with Jubilee, Bobby, Rogue, Piotr, and John. The 'older kids' table.

The others all just shrugged, they seemed curious, but none of them had any answers. Except Bobby, who was looking conveniently at his plate. Which Jubilee noticed, and kicked him under the table.

"Spill, Icecube. You look way too guilty."

"Well.. I was in Miss Munroe's office, getting ripped into for not having one of my assignments done for her, when her phone rang.."

"Like who would call Miss Munroe directly? I didn't know she had friends outside of the School." Kitty sounded confused, as did all of the others who'd been at Muir while a certain visitor came to the mansion. Jubilee however, was laughing. To the point she couldn't even talk.

So Bobby got the attention, while Rogue poked at him for him to spill.

"Well.. it was that guy, I think. I didn't hear much, but Logan's name came up too. A half hour later after a meeting with the Prof she was in the Black Bird and gone.."

"Wait, wait, what guy?" Kitty demanded, echoed lightly by Rogue which got a frown from Bobby.

Fortunately, Jubilee was done laughing by that time. "Didn't I tell you... ? No? Wow. It must have slipped my mind." Her grin said it hadn't been an accident though. She'd been with holding on them, to pull it out at a time appropriate to make them all be flabbergasted. She tapped the shades that rested on top of her head.

_Well, maybe, just maybe, I wanted to keep knowledge about him to myself. If Miss Munroe doesn't want him, I'd sooo take him._

"Gambit, his name is Gambit. And you would not believe what a hottie he is. I thought I was going to faint every time he looked at me, he's like a walking naughty dream." The males at the table all groaned and held their hands in their head – except Piotr who just kept stoically eating. Nothing phased him.

"So like, okay. He's hot? How hot?" That was Kitty, grinning from ear to ear. Maybe at the idea of someone who would make Jubilee swoon, or maybe just to make the guys groan more. She seemed like an air head a lot of the time, but she was the smartest one of them.

"Hot hot. Brad Pitt doesn't have anything on him. Let's put it this way, Miss Munroe was wearing short skirts and tank tops while he was around, that's how hot he is."

Everyone but Bobby at the table boggled. Miss Munroe, who was aloof and distant? Sure, she could be friendly like a mother, but the idea of her .. that way, with anyone, was boggling all their minds. More then a few young boys at the school had the hots for Storm, but it was short lived when they realized she would never be interested, even if they weren't her students.

"No way. Seriously Jubilee? Is this a lie? Bobby?"

"Uh. Yea. Short skirt. Tank top." He agreed, while freezing John's mashed potatoes.

"So he's hot.. what else? There's got to be more."

"Well, I think he might be good enough to kick Wolverine's ass."

That got a lot of blinks across the table, but Bobby was nodding. Which got him a scowl from Rogue. "Ah don't think so. He can't be that good."

"Oh, he is. First time in the danger room, he was running scenarios that **Scooter** designed for two people, by himself, and he was topping out at almost perfect scores, and hitting records on completion times."

That got a lot of gasps around the table, even from disbelieving Rogue.

"Oh. Oh. And he's cajun. His accent. It just made me want to purr at him."

Kitty was sputtering, clearly, the mental image Jubilee had evoked was a bit too much. An insanely hot, sexily accented, battle harded warrior? That seemed a bit too much. Someone was over-exaggerating. Something Jubilee was known for. Bobby's agreement didn't mean much, he could be in on it with Jubilee.

Jubilee just shrugged. "Hey, believe me or not.."

"So why'd he leave?"

"Dunno. Same reason Logan did?"

Rogue was scowling. She didn't like people talking about Logan unless it was praising him.

"Is that why Miss Munroe has a Mustang now?"

"Oh. I forgot.." All the eyes turned on Jubilee at that. "I did! I wasn't holding back, it just slipped my mind..."

"You like, forgot what?"

"Seriously Jubilee.. you're totally holding back on us here." Even Rogue seemed curious now.

"Well. It's just that, he's kinda sorta.."

She wasn't moving fast enough for their liking. "Kind of sort of what?" "Oh hurry up."

"He's rich." Bobby spat the words.

"Oh. How do you know that?"

"He bought the Mustang, but he gave it to Storm. When he left, he went out and bought a Harley, cash, and it was nice. Looked as good, if not better, then Scott's bike. He also bought me these shades." Jubilee tapped the glasses.

"So that's how you afforded $500 designer sunglasses?" Kitty asked blinking, and everyone at the table was looking at Jubilee with a 'what the hell' look. Which was defused, because Jubilee was just as surprised.

"Five hundred bucks? Are you serious?"

"Oh yeah. I looked them up online."

"Oh." Their discussion of Gambit fell quiet then, as John and Bobby got into it when John finally realized his mashed potatoes were totally solid as an ice cube.

"Ass! I was going to eat those, I always save the best for last!"

* * *

"As I said, welcome home Mr. LeBeau." Charles turned his wheel chair and wheeled away, Logan following talking to him about memories or something like that that Gambit didn't quite catch. Scott however was still standing there, and eying him and his Stormy.

"Don't smoke in the actual mansion, Remy. Outside, your bedroom, and anywhere in the sublevels but the infirmary or Cerebro are where you can smoke. Same rules for you as for Logan."

Remy laughed, he'd been expecting something else. "D'accord."

"Actually, you mean _our_ room, Scott. He will be staying in the attic with me. I've already moved his things after all."

Remy had to hold his laughter down hard, Scott looked like he'd just been punched in the gut. Remy himself had to admit he was a bit surprised. His Stormy was being busy while he was gone apparently, and once she made up her mind, it appeared to be made.

"An can dis t'ief get away wit' smoking in his Stormy Goddesses attic?" His voice was teasing, and a tint of red shown on her cheeks again.

"Yes, he can. As long as he doesn't call me that silly nick name again." Remy yelped when he felt her finger tip tap against his chest, a light shock passing from him to her.

"Oui. I forget dat, seems I got a short memory." Except she liked him calling her that, but still hadn't reconciled herself to a term of endearment being used in public. Maybe some day she'd stop telling him to stop it, or putting up the mock fight. From the barely contained laughter on Scott's face, Scott had seen through it already.

Maybe the kids would be fooled by it at least?

"I'll make sure you remember. Now, what else has transpired while we were gone, Scott?"

"Not much. Jean has the flu. Now that Logan's back, I'm sure some catastrophe is just waiting around the corner though. Cafeteria is serving a potato bar today, so if you want lunch you might want to hurry before everything is picked over."

"Lunch huh? I could go for some lunch. How bout it 'Ro?" He offered his best innocent grin, to accentuate the use of her name instead of Stormy, and she nodded. He noticed her arm never left being wrapped around him though, and somewhere along the way, his hand arm had went around her, and his hand rested on her hip in a mimicry of how she claimed him.

Well, if genes could evolve, mutate, no reason their friendship couldn't. Sides.. maybe there'd be more then just sleeping happening in their bed now. Their bed. Odd word, that. He'd never considered any of his lovers beds his before, even ones he'd stayed with. First times for everything.

"Oh, Remy? Ororo? I'd suggest you change before going up. You are still in uniform." Scott was snickering as he walked past them with that statement.

Whle Remy just laughed, and Ororo sighed. "We can use the elevator up to the second floor. It comes out only a few feet from the attic entrance. Unless you'd prefer to use the locker room showers?"

The arch of her eyebrow informed him he would be insane to opt for that choice. He had no idea what she had in mind, but even if it was just kissing and a shower, he wasn't likely to complain. Sooner or later, he'd draw the fire out of her again that she'd displayed on the Black Bird, if it wasn't what was being displayed even now.

* * *

"Woah. The jets back."

"For a genius, you are such a master of the obvious, Kitty." Jubilee muttered, shaking her head. Today they were lacking the males, who were out in the back playing football still. "I think everyone in the mansion felt the windows shake at it's landing."

"Oh. Well, like, should we go meet them or something? Say welcome back?"

"No. We can wait, they'll probably come in to get a bite to eat, so if we just take our time.." Rogue murmured demurely as she sipped at her milk.

"Good idea chica. Maybe tall dark and dreamy will be with Miss Munroe, so you can all see I wasn't lying."

"Yeah whatever Jubes. You just should admit to it now." Kitty grimaced at her, and Rogue nodded.

"Fine, then we wait and see."

* * *

He very much was glad he hadn't declined Storm's invitation. The shower had been together, and while they hadn't crossed any lines yet, it was definitely just a yet. His lips still felt the warmth of hers against them, and he could still taste her on his lips.

"You're getting distracted again, Remy. Either latch my bra, or I'll do it myself. If you insist on helping me get dressed.."

"I got it Stormy, I got it." A deft motion with his fingers, and he wrapped his arms around her from behind her, nipping her earlobe. "You sure ya wanna go get food right away? Dere ot'er t'ings we could do..."

Storm laughed, not at his suggestion, but because his stomach rumbled while he made it. "Warring hungers, Remy? If you don't eat, how are you ever going to last through tonight?"

For once, He was the one who blushed. Hearing that from his Stormy just hit him in a way he wasn't used to, and he gave her stomach a last pat, as he moved to the closet, looking over what clothes he'd left behind.

"Oh, no response? It's nice to see you be the one caught off guard for once.." Her voice muffled while she pulled a shirt on. Remy settled for pulling out a pair of jeans, and tossing on the old Saints jersey over it. It'd be good enough. He cast a glance at his duster, and his shades resting over a chair.

"Leave them. Take your jacket if your cold, but leave the glasses Remy. You have nothing to hide here, not anymore."

His head tilted as he eyed her up and down. Jeans, worn but not ripped, faded at the knees. A dark grey long sleeve shirt that fit her well, and set off the white hair that spilled over her shoulders. Swiping up his coat as he slipped it on, he offered an arm.

"D'accord Stormy."

She didn't take his arm as she slipped forward, instead she stepped around in front of him, and stole one last kiss, before her arm slipped behind his coat to settle her fingers on his hip once again, and his own arm fell around her to match

"I'm going to enjoy this." She was laughing, and Remy wasn't sure what about.

Until he realized exactly what she was talking about. While in the shower he hadn't realized it, but he could feel it already. Curiosity, other emotions, stirring against his mental shields.

_Oh lord have mercy, I'm in a school full of hormonal teenagers. If ya have any mercy, don't let dem all be like Jubilee._.

* * *

"See? See? I told you so!" Jubilee blurted to the other two girls, when Storm and Gambit came into the cafeteria. What she hadn't been expecting was how they had their arms around each other. If they hadn't been a couple before, they definitely were now.

"Like, woah."

"Damn."

Kitty and Rogue both seemed suitably impressed by the tall lean figure, with his dark reddish-brown hair, striking profile, and his burning red on black eyes. A gaze that swept the Cafeteria, and to Jubilee it seemed almost like an audible gasp seemed to flow from wherever his eyes peered in the large room, from male or female. Even the younger girls were staring with open mouths at the roguish thief, and the males seemed to realize that there was another version of 'ultimate coal' to mimic now beyond Logan. Maybe there would be less flannel shirts worn from now on.

She could hope.

Gambit stood tall, proud where he walked with Storm, and his gaze seemed almost defiant. The initial gasps that had been for the tall figure seemed to repeat, as more gazes realized how the two were holding each other.

"Uhh. Jubilee? Like, you totally didn't say him and Miss Munroe were together."

"Wow." Rogue still seemed to be stuck on to him.

"Jeeze. Miss Munroe looks way protective of her new man too. Look how tightly she's holding him. That's like, totally over kill. I feel sorry for the girl who tries to flirt with him, if she's that claiming already"

Jubilee swallowed. Loudly, and both girls looked at her, and she flashed an innocent smile back.

* * *

"You almost tripped, Remy. Are you okay?" Storm frowned at him, and her arm tightened. No one else would've even noticed it, he caught himself so fast, but no one else was walking with him, and were able to feel how his balance was being effected. Her voice was low, but concerned.

"Shields, chere. Lot of things being broadcast right now. Curiosity, jealousy, lust, awe.. seems like dis gonna be interesting."

"Jealousy?" Storm arched an eyebrow at him. She supposed from Jubilee, but one person couldn't over come his shields.

"From both sides of de fence, chere. Not just for me, but at me cuz a you."

"Oh. Here. Sit down, I'll get our food. Some of the students might come up..."

"I be fine 'Ro. Can handle a few little kids, long as my shields hold up."

She nodded, but it was with a considering look at him. Her lips pressed together, before she slipped away from him off to prepare plates. She didn't even know, for certain, what he'd want. But she also knew he'd eat whatever it was, so she better fill his plate full. The man could pack food away like Logan.

* * *

"Hi Gambit."

Remy didn't even need to look up, to know that there were three girls arrayed on the other side of the table. Especially to know that one of them was Jubilee. That girls emotions assaulted his mental shields when she was this close, but at least hers were emotions he was used to deflecting. Oddly, it seemed to be a lot less severe then when he'd first walked into the cafeteria. It was also laced with a bit of nervous anxiety. Fear of Stormy?

She didn't strike him as the jealous type, but maybe the kids knew about an ex he didn't? He'd find out, he supposed.

"'llo petite. Petites." All three of the teenagrers seemed to squirm standing when his eyes shifted up to gaze at them. Jubilee in her yellow coat, the glasses he'd given her resting atop of her head. A mousey girl next door type, in baggy jeans and a sweater. Then a pale skinned girl who's only uncovered skin was her neck and face. Vampire? Eh. Maybe.

The mousey had emotions striking at his shields almost as much as Jubilee, while the covered one was mostly just curious, but she was definitely appreciative of his looks. It just lacked the lust of the other two, which he found himself grateful for.

"Y'can call me Remy, Jubes. De name is Remy LeBeau."

"Your accent is atrocious." The vampire told him, while the other two girls were seeming to memorize his name.

"An yours be hidden, but dere. What de point in having a southern accent if ya just gonna hide it, eh petite?"

"He's like, totally got you there Rogue. If you used your accent, you'd like totally have Bobby eating out of the palm of your hand.." The mousey one caljoned her friend, before looking back to the cajun.

"I'm Kitty Pryde, and this is Rogue. I guess you already know Jubilee?"

"Of course he does! I told you guys he gave me these glasses."

"Y'tell dem why I gave you dem, Jubes?" Remy arched an eyebrow at her.

"Uhm. Cuz you said if I was gonna do something, I should do it with style, and cuz it matched my coat?"

"Good memory. Now.."

"Blow off, girls. Teachers table, and ya ain't teachers." Logan's gruff voice came from behind them, and all three looked surprised Remy noted. Rogue seemed pleased, and the other two were just cowed, and shuffled back off.

"T'anks mon ami."

* * *

"Blow off girls, Teachers table, and ya ain't teachers." Logan almost spat the words out. Especially at Rogue. Cowing around Gambit like some prized ew. Damn cajun was going to find life here living hell at this rate. He could smell it thick in the air, emotions of so many kids, jumbled up, and far too many were fixated on Remy for their own good. For a moment, he almost felt protective of the kid.

Then he shrugged, and stalked over to get his own plate. By the time he made it back to the table, Ororo was sitting next to the cajun, so he took the seat across from them.

"Are you sure you're fine, Remy?" Storm was asking him, as if the kid had some reason to not be. She was actually concerned though, he could smell it. Then again, for that matter the kids scent felt.. pressed upon. As if he had tons of people looking at him through a magnifying glass. Only scent he could compare it to was when one of the telepathic students was having power problems.

"You a telepath, cajun?" Gambit actually looked surprised at that question, which confused Logan even more. An emphatic shake of his head.

"Non. Not a telepath. Somet'ing else. Just feeling a little pressed upon. All de kids.."

"Tell me about it. It's assaulting my nose like you wouldn't believe. You'd think they'd be better then bitches in heat." Logan avoided growling. It wasn't the kids fault he looked the way he did, and most of those girls should know better. They should know a lot better. He'd have to remind them of it before he left again, if Storm or Scott didn't.

"Dis ain't dat bad, 'Ro. De food always like dis?" Remy asked, shifting the subject as he shoveled food into his mouth. Storm laughed and told him simply "Not quite."

"Thanks, Cajun."

"For what?"

"For your hand with that Wraith business. You didn't have much reason to help out, and not sure I coulda found that piece of scum so quickly on my own. You always that useful?"

"Oh, don't let it go to his head Logan. We'll never hear the end of it, if you buff his ego up any more then it already is."

"Heh. Don't need no ego buffing. Just being in dis room doing dat just fine. But yeah, I got some pretty good connections, dat pay off now and again."

"I'll keep that in mind for the future, bub."

"Ahh, so here the happy couple is." Jean noted from a few feet away, as she dropped into the other seat next to Gambit. She looked like he figured, since they said she had the flu. Definitely worse for the wear for it.

Logan found their reactions interesting. He expected it'd be Gambit who grinned, and Storm who got embarrassed. Instead it was Gambit who just offered a shy smile and went on eating, and Storm who grinned at Jean and mouthed 'You were right' at her.

Women.

"So Logan, are you going to be staying this time?" Oh great, Scooter was back, and he sat next to Logan. Just great.

"For a little bit. Professor's going to go over another batch of sessions with me, see what we can figure out, maybe find me another lead since the one down South didn't pay off at all."

"Well Logan, while you're here you can help with Drivers Ed." Jean opined to him with a light smile, and Scott and Ororo both seemed to be on the point of laughing at him. Damn woman was taking advantage of him, and they both knew it. The cajun looked momentarily confused, and then was grinning widely between bites off his plate.

Christ, even the new guy was laughing at his misery and situation.

"Yeah, sure. I can do that. We got a jeap or some other kind of tank to do it in? I don't feel like biting it because of some sixteen year old got a need for speed. Why don't the cajun help me?"

Ororo shook her head emphatically. "No. No. Remy's driving is something better to not be passed on to the next generation." She almost sounded afraid.

Logan just sighed. Teenagers. And they wondered why he always left the school after a few weeks or a month of hanging around. Teenagers.

* * *

"You behaved yourself very well today, Mr LeBeau." Ororo opinioned at him through the bathroom door. Why she had it closed, he had no idea. It wasn't like he hadn't seen.. everything.

"Yea, well. You did tell me to behave, an wit' all de pressing at my shields, I didn't get dem solidified till de last hour or so. Had to change dem a little bit from how I was used to doing them."

"Oh, and what gave you that inspiration?"

"Well.. I was probing at de Prof's shields, and caught a couple of ideas, t'be honest."

"Did you explain what you were doing?"

"Non. Why? He had dat knowing little smile on his lips, and nodded to me when I did it though. Think he approved of my self learning. Dat or he just hast dat creepy smile all de time. Not sure which yet. He gets dat a lot when I be around."

"That's because he likes you, Remy, but he knows that it might cause discipline problems if he too openly approved of your scoundrel ways."

"Oh, dat s.." His voice floundered when she stepped out of the bathroom door. Oh, he'd seen her nude before. Every night he'd been with her damn near. He'd even seen her chocolate skin beaded with moisture and soap lather. But that hadn't prepared him for seeing her step out of the bathroom with white garger belts, thin white stockings on, and not a single thing else.

"Do you like?" She turned in a circle for his benefit, and she didn't need his nod to know his answer. Remy just shifted the blankets back for her, before she crawled into bed, and straddled him, running her hands along his face.

"I see you do. Remy.." His eyes slowly pulled up her body to her face. Peering into her eyes.

He didn't answer what she couldn't quite say out loud yet, instead he smiled at her, and let his shields down some. The distance from others helped up in the attic, and he opened a light link between them. Let her get a feel of his own emotions, as his hand raised, running a thumb along her lips.

"Mmm.." She kissed his thumb, nipped it, and then leaned down so her hair cascaded around his face, her nose to his, lips a fraction of a span from his, their chests pressed together. "You do, do you? Words, Remy. Words. I don't want to be like Scott and Jean, who spend most of their lives in their heads."

"You gonna make me say it, chere?" He asked, his other hand trailing along her spine, sending shivers through her.

"Yes, but.. I love you, Remy." His face softened at those words, and his lips brushed hers repeatedly. His answer was soft, very soft, but he knew she'd catch it, this close. "Love you too, Stormy."

Outside, lightning and thunder began to peel out of a clear sky. At an intensity that had many of the mansions residents nervously shifting in there bed as thunder shook the school, with an intensity to match the flames Remy and Storm had flaming inside of them.

* * *

"Wow."

"No kidding. I think it's safe to say they crossed the 'nothing happening' line."

"No shit. I'm glad not many of the kids are afraid of thunder."

"I'm glad Ororo's attic is sound proofed."

They both looked at each other and laughed, before they realized they could just barely make out moans between the thunder.

"Maybe we better redo the sound proofing..." Scott sounded dubious.

"Wow. I couldn't tell if that's him or her. I think it was her. Just.. wow."

"I can tell your wondering why I never make you scream like that."

"The thought may have crossed my mind, Scott."

"Our room isn't sound proofed."

"Oh. Well. Then I guess we better get both of those issues fixed, don't you think?"

* * *

_Oh jesus. As if the teenagers weren't bad enough. Doesn't anyone remember I have enhanced senses?_

Logan growled, throwing himself out of bed. The lightning was giving him a major headache, and he could hear.. events.. loud and clear. "Kid knows what he's doing, at least."

Shrugging, he grabbed a six pack out of his mini-fridge, pulled a shirt on, and down stairs to the tv room. A bit of distance, the television, combined with the lightning, ought to be enough to drowned out other sounds. Besides, it seemed like the good parts were over.. temporarily.. and they were making pillow talk.

Ugh.

* * *

For a week, life at the mansion slowly took on a slightly diferent shape. At least the lightning storms at night lessened, as Storm learned how to detatch herself from her powers while in.. intimate circumstances.

It was Remy's idea, with Storm's agreement, and Charles nod, that lead to the X-men being situated around the war room table. The others all looked curious as to why the Professor had called for the meeting, while Gambit sat shuffling a deck of cards.

Logan finally wandered in, grunted something they all assumed was a hello, and dropped into a seat.

"So what's up Chuck?"

"This meeting is a briefing on a threat that we were not entirely aware of previously. Now, before we begin, I want you all to understand that I have discussed all of this with Gambit previously." Confused looks crossed a number of faces, and Remy steeled himself.

"Gambit?"

"Oui. Right den. Dere quite a few bad t'ings out dere dat I ain't found any reference to at all in ya databases. But dis one.. probably rank pretty high up dere, an you ran into some of his goons already wit'out knowing it once so far."

That got curious looks around the table, at least from Scott, Jean, and Logan. Charles and Ororo just nodded at him encouragingly. With a sigh and a deep breath, he launched into it.

"Dis man be Nathaniel Essex." The war rooms holographic projector kicked on, showing the pale skinned scientist. "Dat ain't who he really be though. It his name, but.. de name he goes by be Sinister." As the holographic project shifted, there were gasps and shivers. Remy had to admit he was one of those shivering. Sinister still scared the hell out of him, that was for sure.

"He one sick puppy. He a geneticist by trade, but like his name an looks imply, it ain't for de common good. He interested in furthering mutant evolution, in understanding it, in manipulating it, wit'out any care of de consequences or de pain he inflicts t'do it."

Scott was frowning especially hard at the projection. "He looks.. familiar. I know I've never met him, but there's something tickling the back of my mind about him, or maybe the first one. I'm not sure." Xavier frowned at that, and looked concerned, while Gambit shivered.

"It possible, mon ami. Sinister.. he a telepat'. A powerful one. Fact of de matter is, I don't know for sure what he can all do. Know dat he can manipulate energy, a telepath, and he got some mind whammy to boot. He also got access to some pretty nasty technology. He got dese t'ings called Tesseracts.."

"Tesseracts? I thought that was pure science fiction fantasy? That no one had been able to get something like that to actually work. Professor?"

"It's quite possible he has them, Scott. Given what else Remy has to say, it's not such a stretch of the imagination."

Remy nodded. "Right, so he got Tesseracts. He also got a number of transports dat as good as ya Black Bird, an got even better auto-piloting features. In addition to dat, I t'ink he can clone people. Dat just speculation though, never saw nothing to indicate it but..."

The cajun just shrugged.

"Remy how do you know all of this about him?"

"I worked for him for a while, dat's how Red." That got reactions. Scott was now scowling, Jean looked unsure of what to think, but Logan. Logan was just listening. Made sense, from what he knew about Logan's past.

"Dat.. ain't de only part. I.. well. I did a lot of t'ings for him. He found me when my powers went outta control."

"Out of control? How? You seem to have perfect control of them Gambit." Scott sounded confused, and a bit envious. It made sense when Remy thought on it though. Scott would never have control, he'd just have mechanical aids like the visor.

"It like dis.. my powers, some of dem I always had."

"How? Mutant powers don't manifest until puberty, in nearly all instances." Jean sounded intrigued now.

"Dunno. Just some of dem always been dere. I never knew what my empathy was, not really, til I was almost 19. I'd used it every day a my life dat I can remember, but I never consciously used it until den. Always had a huge spatial awareness advantage, always been fast. But when I be about twenty, I had a scare. Got shot while making a pinch, fell, and when I landed de trash can I landed on took a kinetic charge, and blew."

"But dat wasn't de bad one. Dat was just de one dat scared me. De bad one.. well. I was in a theater at de time, and I got a phone call from back home. Found out dat my wife was dead."

Xavier hadn't heard that part before, and he was frowning now. Scott looked appalled, and Jean looked like she wanted to hug him. Even Logan was eying him sadly, with pity. _Don't want ya pity, don't need pity. Sides, ya won't have dat pity on ya faces in a few moments._

"What happened then, Gambit?" Xavier of course, not wanting him to get sidetracked.

"I exploded. Literally. Dem powers I didn't understand just started going, and wouldn't stop. You t'ink I have control now, but.. what I do now, it ain't nothing compared t'dat day. I was charging t'ings just by looking at dem, flesh included. De entire theater, it be reduced to nothing but rubble. I barely survived de blast, an I pretty resistant to my own powers."

Shocked faces. That he didn't mention death tolls was an indication of how bad it'd been, and they all realized it. Stormy was crying. He hated to see her cry, knowing that his past troubled her as much as it did him. Yet even as he wiped at his own eyes, she gave him an encouraging smile.

_Lord, how dat woman do dat? Don't know dat I ever deserve you Stormy, but t'ank god for ya._

"That's not the bad part." His own voice sounded colder to him, and the three who hadn't heard it looked startled, as if to say 'there's worse?'. Logan though nodded after a moment.

"Go on, cajun." Gruff, like a father or an uncle. Maybe the man wasn't so bad after all.

"Right. Well. Sinister, he train me. I was pretty damn good fighter before hand, but he polished it. He taught me how to use my powers. He demanded and got precision control. He taught me mental shields, to contain my empathy, because he said dat it couldn't be allowed to interfere wit' any jobs I might be doing for him. He taught me a lot of t'ings. Philsophy, politics, hacking computers. Lot of de skills I know dat didn't come from de guild, he taught me. De ones de guild taught, he managed to refine even more for de most part. An when he was done, he sent me out to recruit for him. At de time, well. I thought mebbe he wasn't up to much good, but he helped me, an he said he'd help dem."

A shrug of his shoulders. He wasn't here to defend himself. But he found his throat didn't want to work.

"Who did you recruit, Gambit?" That was Scott.

Remy tried to mouth the word, but his throat wouldn't comply. Storm answered for him, her eyes never leaving his face. He wasn't sure what she was seeing right there at the moment.

"He recruited the Marauders for Sinister, Scott. He recruited them, and helped train them."

"The Marauders?" Scott didn't get it, but he wasn't stupid enough to not understand that the name in and of itself meant bad news.

"De Marauders. First, dey.. helped me on stealing missions. But as dey got better, we got bigger missions. Covert ops. Raids on science installations, biomedicine companies, an Sinister unleashed de Marauders on mutant exploitation research centers."

He understood the confused look on Jean and Logan's face. Or maybe that wasn't confusion on Logan's face. "Places.. where mutants were being dissected. Or experimented on in bad ways. We'd sweep in and level dem. Leave nothing but ashes and rubble. Course, each time we also took all de research for Sinister as well. Pretty sure dat's all he wanted, and maybe closing down de competition. He didn't like other scientists who messed wit' mutants none to much."

Comprehension showed on Jean and Scott's faces, regarding survival practices. Logan actually looked like he approved. Given his past though.. he'd done much the same to escape such a place, Gambit guessed.

"After one of dem missions, I couldn't take it no more. As I watched de people – dey'd been a bit of bad apples to begin wit', but as time went on they sank into more an more cruelty an depravity. It was bad. I told him I wanted out, an he agreed t'let me go. But den he made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He bring my wife back to life, if I went on one last mission. Ya gotta understand.. Belladonna.. I was 20 years old, I met her when I was nine.. Married her when I was 18. Her death what landed me in Sinister's hands, and well. I figured mebbe if she was back, I could become who I used ta be before Sinister, before I started walking down de dark path."

He wasn't looking at anyones face but Stormy's at this point. She knew the stories, and her eyes felt like all that was keeping him standing up.

"What was this last mission, Gambit?" Jean..

"It was de Mutant Massacre."

That got their attention. Scott looked horrified, and Jean looked ashen. Even Logan looked shaken.

"Stop it, you three. Stop it and listen." Xavier commanded them, and Remy had the feeling the bald man was holding at least one of them back from attacking him.

"I didn't know. Not until we were in de tunnels. De briefing didn't say who we were hitting. I thought it was another militant group. People who were a threat, or somehow dirty themselves. Sinister always kept things dat way, to keep me in line. Not dis time. He also had Sabretooth and de others ready to turn on me, cuz he anticipated me not being able t'handle it. Dat I'd turn on dem. It was a test of my loyalties."

".. you're the one who did that to Sabretooth?" Scott sounded almost impressed.

Logan just growled at that particular name.

"Yea. Once I realized de truth, I tried to stop him. I tried to stop de ot'ers as I ran across dem in de tunnels, an I barely survived. I got a buncha kids out of dere though. Stormy.. she said you got two packs of lil'uns, dat came in unescorted or hadn't seen none of ya? Dat was me..." He was aware his eyes were watering.

"Scalphunter, Arclight. Dey just tried to scare me off, an sheepherded me away from the real fighting. Creed though.. he was hunting me. He had orders, an he hated me from a run in we had in Paris a year or two prior. I did what I could, an almost died for it. M'powers barely kept me alive, by de time I stumbled out of de sewers. I wanted ta die, den, but if I did... how else was I gonna ever make up for what I done, dere or at de theater? Didn't have any choice, had ta live, so I could make up for dat."

His legs gave out, and he dropped into the chair, and didn't care if the others saw that he was crying.

"Storm, would you take Gambit to the infirmary so he can pull himself together?"

"Of course, Professor."

* * *

"I don't like it. His past is dark with blood." Scott mumbled, staring at the table.

"Yeah? So is mine bub. Maybe never as many at once as the cajun, but he's no worse then me. Or don't that matter, cuz ya don't like me either Scooter?"

"Logan." Xavier's voice.

"Professor.. you have to admit, it's a bit much to take in all at once. Storm has had a long time to come to terms with it, and him. We haven't."

Charles shook his head sadly. "No man or woman is beyond redemption, Jean. It's one of the tenants of this school. Gambit took a step in the right direction without any help from anyone like us. He set himself on the path to redemption, and came to us already well on his way to trying to make amends."

"Kid deserves to be here. He might be a mess, but he's our mess now, and I can't think of many people I'd rather have at my back then the cajun."

"Logan is right." Eyes turned to Storm as she walked back in. "Remy is troubled by his actions more then any of you ever will be, and unlike most of us he didn't have the advantage of someone stepping out to put him on the right path at an early age. He was kicked out of his family, told he could never return home on pain of death, he had to leave his wife behind when he was eighteen. What Remy didn't tell you, couldn't tell you, is he doesn't even know how old he is. Not with any accuracy."

"How could that be, Ororo? His birth certificate..." Jean shut up at Ororo's look.

"He doesn't have one. Anywhere. He's looked, for years for any clues. There aren't any. His earliest memory is living on the streets when he was barely more then a toddler. He lived on the streets until what he _guesses_ was being nine years old. When he got adopted by a Master Thief, and raised as his own son. He'd only ever know love from very few people, and he was forced to leave them. To wander the world by himself. He got pulled into a lot of screw ups because of who he is."

"Oh.." Came from both Jean and Scott at once. Scott suddenly looked guilty. No doubt he'd assumed he had it bad in the orphanage, but even that was pleasant in comparison to scrounging on your own on the streets for years, without even a clean bed, and assured meals, or heat in the winter.

"Do you think I would, that I could, love a man who has evil in his heart?" Eyes looked away from her at that question, but she waited for an answer. "Do you?" She waited imperiously, until each voice at the table echoed a no.

"The kid stays then." Logan groused at them, then stood. "And I need a beer. Me and the cajun'll be at Harry's. You coming 'Ro?"

"Yes Logan, I am."

* * *

After the others had left, Charles realized Scott was still there, looking at the table top.

"Are you alright Scott?"

"Just.. troubled Professor. By two things."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not really, but... I have to."

"Very well.

"Gambit.. I'm not sure what to think sir."

"How so, Scott?"

"I'm horrified by his past, but.. part of me, I feel like I should respect him more. He's fallen, and fallen far, and he's picked himself back up, dusted himself off, and is climbing into the light. Part of me says that's because he was weak, another part of me says I should respect him all the more for it. Because all I've done is keep my nose clean."

"Both views could be appropriate. I won't tell you what to think Scott, but everyone deserves a second chance."

"I know. The other part is.. I think I remember Sinister, sir."

"Remember him, Scott?"

"From the Orphanage."

"I see.. would you like me to take a look?"

"I'd like that sir."

Some time later, Charles lips pressed into a firm line, and Scott was shivering in his seat.

"Those memories were repressed, Scott. Either by yourself, or by Sinister..."

"I thought that I knew him, but.. Professor, he's not going to just be one of those lurking threats, is he?"

"I don't think so Scott. With you and Gambit both here, I very much suspect we'll encounter him sooner or later."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Oh noes. Will it be sooner, or later? What comes next? What fell evil? Sinister? Stryker? Weapon X? Magneto? The Reavers? Remy and Ororo breaking their bed? Stay tuned. R&R. 


	17. Competition

**Note**: It was pointed out to me I incorrectly called Julien Remy's Step-Brother, not Brother-in-Law a chapter or two back. Oops. Silly me.

* * *

The danger room seemed to come to a halt, as Gambit was flung a good twenty feet at the impact of a blow meant for Storm that he'd taken in her place.

"Gambit what the hell are you..." Scott Summers voice trailed off, and he stared at the cajun. A flick of his eyes showed he wasn't the only one of the team staring at the cajun in surprise. He'd been expecting to see the cajun go rolling, or to cough up blood. Instead he was pushing up with his bo-staff smirking.

That wasn't what had everyones attention though. It was the bright ruby glow from the cajuns eyes that seemed to bathe his proximity, before he pulled out a deck of cards, laughed at all the faces staring at him.

"Ya might wanna get de sequence going again, Cyke, cuz dis much energy, it be a real bitch to hold onto, ya know."

_Damn thief. Take a blow like that, and act cocky afterward. For all we knew he could have been injured, and he's got yet another ability or trick up his sleave no one knew about. How many secrets do you have, Gambit?_

"Resume." The word was barked from Scott's throat, as the scenario reinitalized from where it had been paused. No one was surprised this time, when Gambit began to take out foes with his cards that moments ago had been holding up just fine against his attacks.

_It's interesting, Scott. Think about it, Remy seems to display a near constant level of power – probably absorbed just by simple motions of walking, moving, the impact of his boots against the ground, or reveberations in his bo-staff. When he takes a larger one, his output becomes increasingly large. It makes sense if you think about it._

_You're studying the cajuns powers now?_

_Well, they are quite interesting. We've never encountered a mutant before who displayed two wholey unconnected powers before, the way Remy does._

_Less talk, more keeping up your telekinetic shields, Jean._

_Yes dear._

* * *

Where had he gone? He'd already slipped out of the locker room almost as soon as he'd gotten wet and changed, according to Scott. Storm stalked down the halls with a frown that had students very much not getting in her way. Not in the cafeteria, or the staff kitchen. Not out back at the pool. Not in the garden either. Finally she tried the attic.

Almost afraid he wouldn't be there, she was relieved to find Remy sitting in the largest of the windows of the attic, his feet stretched out across the sill, sitting there smoking a cigarette and watching some of the youngest children playing out in the yard. He had an odd look on his face while he watched, that Storm could only attribute to be a mix between envy and enjoyment at watching the kids play.

That little smile wasn't going to get him off the hook though.

"Remy Etienne LeBeau." That got his attention. Mild names only ever came out when one was in trouble after al, he'd learned that as a teenager.

"Oiu Stormy?" He looked quizzical, as if confused at why she was angry with him, and from the way he shifted in the window sill he was no doubt aware of it. No doubt because her anger was striking against his mental shields. Good.

"Explain to me, precisely, what you thought you were doing in the danger room?" Yes, that had the quite right amount of ice in her tone, she was certain of it.

"Well, doing dat team exercise t'ing dat Scott said we had t'do. Ya mean something in paticular, mon amour?"

_Curse him. He had to pick now to start using those words with me, didn't he? A cocky answer and saying you love me won't get you out of trouble this time, Remy._

"You know full well what I am talking about, so quit dancing around the subject. Why Remy? I was already moving, I could have avoided that hit." She could have. It wasn't **that** close to hitting her.

"Mebbe, mebbe not. I not be used t'fighting wit' others though, 'Ro, and dunno how fast y'are. It was a hit I could take wit' ease, an if you been thinking on ya toes – or knew dat I'd do it, ya coulda blasted dem wit' lightning while I was still doing de bouncing through de air part. Scott, he say dat it be learning experience so we all know how to fight wit' eachother, non? So, we learn how to fight together?"

It made sense, horrible sense. But her lips compressed tighter, while she stalked across the room to grab him by the neck of his shirt, and pull him forward so she could look directly into her eyes.

"I won't have you protect me, Remy."

"Chere, you be de Goddess. I jus' be a t'ief." There was no bitterness in that tone, and his smile was open. She was so confused.

"I.. don't follow, Remy." He just smiled a little more and nodded.

"Non. Didn't t'ink you did. It not about dat, protecting you. You ain't some china doll dat I need t'be protecting. You know ya business chere, but like I say. We.. well. We be what we are. Dat's gonna come up some time, but dat ain't what dis was. You pulled me in, moved me up here wit' you, an t'ings be working well. But dere a lot of t'ings with both got to be working on."

She thought it had been going very well, and her lips compressed even more tightly. She was resisting the urge to demand he tell her. He seemed to get the idea.

"Stormy.. every woman I ever loved, dey eit'er been hurt or worse cuz of me. I don' have de natural sympatico wit' you dat I do wit' Logan in a fight. Only way we gonna figure dat out, get dat kind of energy and coordination, be if we work at it. An I can't not have dat wit' you, or mebbe it be me instead of you dat get hurt cuz I get stupid and t'ink you _do_ need protection when ya don't. Mebbe vice versa. Ya looked awful worried when I took dat hit chere. We need t'do dis more."

"Very well, we will run our own sessions each day, but you will not act like you are my protector, or that I need a bodyguard, do I make myself clear Remy?"

"D'accord Stormy. Y'make yaself crystal clear. But jus' remember dis mon coeur, I won' ever stand aside if it might keep ya alive."

"I would not expect you to Remy, but to grow, sometimes requires to be hurt." Was he even listening to what she said? Was she not making sense? Why was he smiling like a fool.

"True dat. Now den.. dis mean we finally get to have angry sex?"

It was her turn to put her head in her hands and laugh. What had she gotten herself involved in. She was about to give him a firm no, just to teach him a lesson, when she felt his hand on her thigh, and the other moving up to brush her arms.

_Oh Bright Lady. It's not fair he can stir me with just a casual touch and a smouldering look in his eyes.._

"I will teach you to respect your Goddess." She told him somewhat crossly, before the winds threw him to the bed. To her increasing annoyance, he was laughing like a fool, and his answer just added fuel to the fire.

"An I will remind you dat you human, Stormy."

* * *

"It's cloud lightening out." Scott muttered, looking out the window of the faculty lounge.

"Master of the obvious as usual, Cyke." Logan grumped.

"Do you think?"

"Don't know why.. Ro hasn't made it storm while they did it for a week or two now."

"Yeah, well.. Hm. I think Jean just feinted." Scott frowned.

Logan tilted his head, confused. "Passed out? From what?"

Scott suddenly flushed. "Never mind, she's fine. I'll talk to you after next class Logan."

Logan jutst shook his head. Wherever Scott was going it wasn't too class. He was curious, but he really didn't want to ask because he was sure asking would make him just want to gut Summers more then normal, and he hated being jealous of that little prick.

Damn women were nothing but trouble. Red heads especially. At least the coffee was fresh, and the donuts were good.

A few moments later, he didn't have free hands to eat or drink with, as he slapped his hands over his ears.

"Worse than damn teenagers. I hate you Summers. Still. Who'd have thought he'd have the moxy to break their bed... and keep going." Logan mulled over this revelation, unwanted as it was since it should have been him with Jean in there, before noticing one of the kids was outside the lounge looking in.

"What ya want Rahne?"

"Mr. Logan, how come Miss Summers and Miss Munroe are screaming like that, and why did Mr Summers break their bed?"

Aww shit. He forgot that he wasn't the only one with enhanced senses. Worse, was having to figure out how to explain this to a young kid.

"Well ya see kid, when a grown up loves another grown up very much, they have wrestling matches sometimes to see which one of 'em has to make the bed. Scooters just a poor loser and broke the bed instead."

"Oh.. When will they stop screaming, Mr Logan?"

"Not soon enough kid, not soon enough."

"Oh.. want to watch some Pokemon with us Mr. Logan?"

"... sure kid." Scott was going to pay for this. Somehow.

* * *

Jubilee was staring out the window of her, Kitty, and Rogue's room.

"It's lightning again."

"Again? Like, ew. They're grown ups. They should have some like, respect or something."

"Hey, if I had a guy like Gambit, I'd be doing it a lot more then once or twice a day.." Jubilee said without a doubt in her mind. Then again, he was a pretty big guy, he'd probably... How did Storm manage to walk around anyway?

"You would.. but I suppose, just this once, I'm going to have to agree with you. It's not like Miss Munroe isn't a total jack pot for him either. A lot of the boys stare at her.."

"You're just jealous because all the idiots in our classes stare at them instead of you, Kit." Jubilee shook her head.

"Well.. "

"Don't even try to deny it. Have you ever considered not having so many layers of clothes, or dressing nice? You dress like a book worm. You're pretty thin, but you'd be pretty hot if you knew how to dress right." Jubilee wanted to slap her. Kitty was pretty, and then there was Rogue. Between the two she felt a little dumpy sometimes, and Kitty pulled it off while dressing like a geek.. and Rogue. She was a goth in all but name, and well, lacking in the black.

"You think maybe if I wore a little tighter clothes that..."

Jubilee made a point of putting a finger to her lips as if she was going to induce vomiting.

"Really Kitty.. You're going to be a Senior this year, and you're still .. god. I don't know why I bother, chica. Your hopeless. You haven't even _looked up from your laptop_ while we had this conversation! And you're wearing hello kitty socks..." Jubilee couldn't stop herself from making retching noises this time.

Jubilee jumped off her bed though, when a crash came from down the hall.

Kitty frowned. "What the heck was that? My monitor fritzzed for a moment.."

Jubilee pulled her head back in from the door. "Oh no."

"What Jubes?"

"I think they're having a... competition."

Kitty blinked at her, looking confused. "Who?"

"Mr Summers and Dr Grey, and Gambit and Miss Munroe..."

"... that's kind of hot."

"Chica, did you just say what I think you did?"

"Yeah..Why? What's wrong with it. Mr Summers is pretty hot too. That strong jaw. Not Gambit hot, but still pretty hot."

"For once chica.. for once.. we agree."

* * *

"See? What I tell you bout angry sex, mon couer?" Remy finally asked, as his fingers toyed with her hair. They were both covered in sheens of sweat, and his Stormy was still panting and just nuzzling against his chest lightly.

"Mm.. I should listen to you when it comes to these things, shouldn't I?" She batted her lashes at him, and smirked.

Remy frowned. "Heeey now, ya trying ta say dat I'm a slut or somet'ing?"

"Well, that wasn't quite what I was saying, but in comparison to me..." Storm was giggling and trying to look innocent.

"Oh. Well. I guess. Mebbe. Ya been wit' other guys before me though, yeah?"

Storm's face became a mask of serenity, and a secretive smile stole across her lips. "I'll never tell."

Remy brushed his fingers along her sides, and she squirmed. "Oh no, not again Remy.. I'm already sore."

"Ya misread me, Stormy." Which was when he rolled over straddling her hips, and began tickling her. She shouldn't have squirmed so whenever he ran his hands along her sides, it gave away that she was ticklish.

Which ended up with her arms trying to shove him off of her, to no avail, while she was reduced into laughter. After some time, he finally stopped, looking at her with a questioning gaze.

"There's only been you, Remy. Are you happy? If you ever tickle me again.." Lightning crackled between her finger tips threateningly.. which just earned her more tickling, longer this time, until her face was completely flushed and she was having a hard time pulling air in through the laughter.

"You'll do what, mon amour? Laugh? You do dat remarkably well, you got a good laugh. Should do it more often."

Still panting for breath, she just glared at him. "I need a shower. So do you. Now go be a good boyfriend and make sure the water is warm for me."

"D'accord. Since you asked so nicely." Snickering, he slipped out of their bed to wander to the bathroom. The question was if he'd turn the hot water on, or the cold. He hadn't tried that trick on her yet.

* * *

Breakfast had barely gotten under way the next day in the teachers kitchen, everyone trying out Gambit's chocolate pancakes, when Charles wheeled into the kitchen looking to make sure they were all there, nodding when he saw they were he wasted little time.

"We have an issue that has come up." That seemed to draw them all out of enjoying their breakfast, and drew frowns and curious looks.

"Is it Magneto? Did he escape? I bet it's Magneto." Scott spoke up, his Magneto obsession showing through once again. Really, he needed to get over that Charles thought. Just because Erik was his arch-nemesis, it didn't mean all the bad perpetrated in the world was Erik's fault. At times, he felt that Scott conveniently forgot that Erik had helped build the school into what it was now and helped teach him and Jean initially, because he couldn't comprehend someone chose another path.

Before anyone else could hound Scott or guess, Charles shook his head.

"No, I just received a phone call from Brian Braddock. It seems him and his sister are being stretched rather thin in the United Kingdom at the moment, and he requested we give them a hand. They are currently helping Interpol track down a band of mutant abducters, so they are unable to help Moira MacTaggert with her problem at the moment. Frankly, Moira was worried that Elizabeth might not be a skilled enough telepath to handle the situation regardless."

"A telepath?" Jean looked up at this, then looked at Charles with confusion.

"Not you Jean, I will be going. Scott and Jean will remain to watch the children. Gambit, Storm, Wolverine, the three of you will accompany me to Muir Island."

"Thanks fer asking Chuck. What the hell, been a while since I got a chance to drink some of that coffee that tastes like cyanide mixed with rocket fuel."

"Dere coffee dat taste dat bad? More t'de point, ma petit holmes, why you ever drink cyanide an rocket fuel to know what dey taste like mixed together?"

"Shut it, cajun. It's a saying." _Snikt_.

"If ya say so.. ain't no saying I ever heard before."

"Will you two knock it off. How long should we pack our bags for, Professor?"

"If things go well, we'll be back in a few days. If not, up to a week. If it is longer then that, I will remain personally while the three of you return."

* * *

Remy was throwing things into his duffle bag while half paying attention. Mostly his eyes were on Stormy as she bent over grabbing a pair of shoes. He couldn't resist. He slipped behind her, grinding lightly against her, while his hands run along her thighs.

"Remy! We have to pack. We're leaving in a half hour."

"Packin don't take dat long.."

"No, but knowing you, you are never sated so easily, and then we would have to shower and get dressed, and we wouldn't be packed... Stop that!" Her hands struck at his on her legs, and he sighed, raising them to give her breasts a light grope, letting his fingers dance over her hardened nipples, before steping back from her.

"D'accord, Stormy." Her body wanted it, he knew, but she was right, and that had been assholish of him.

"_If_ you can be a good boy, we can have a quickie in the Black Bird. Even on in the Black Bird it's a few hour flight.. I want you, Remy, but we have to pack." She sounded annoyed. At him, at having to pack. He had to remember not to screw around like this before missions. Going in to something off balance could end up with both of them dead, if they were too distracted by hormones to focus.

"I sorry Stormy. Didn't mean to get you all worked up... I finish you off quick, you want?"

"That won't be necessary." She murmured at him, gaining control of herself again already. He had to laugh at that. Woman had an indomitable will. Any other woman would've been a puddle on the floor after a few moments – a puddle surrounded by their own clothes.

"So what dis Muir place dat we be going, or dis Moira MacTaggert person?" He had never heard of either the place or the person.

"Oh. You didn't read those files? Muir Island is a genetics research center. Moira was the one who identified the X-Factor gene, that causes mutation. She runs the center there, and has dedicated her life to helping mutants. Ones with powers that aren't controllable. The students we have here can all learn to control their powers, given time, but most of those on Muir require more.. drastic.. measures to help them learn control, or to make them be controlled."

"Oh. Labs."

"Yes Remy, labs. But not like that. Moira shares Charles' dream for co-existance. She's an old college friend of his, and only has the intentions of helping those who come to her."

"Oh. So dat we going wit' probably means dat one of de mutants on de island.. ain't being so controllable, or can't control dere powers an she need a hand? But.. sound like de Prof de one dat be doing all de work, an we just muscle in case t'ings go bad?"

"For the most part, that's right Remy. Since the Professor is going, it's probably a young mutant who couldn't cope with their powers in some fashion. Perhaps to the point that they went insane, and the Professor is needed to help restore their mind. Or it's a telepath or other form of psionic who may have gone insane."

"De telepaths can go insane?" He asked curiously.

"You should know better then most, Remy. Your shields are strong, but what would happen if you could never raise your empathic shields. Felt the emotions of those around you at all times, and had no way to turn them off? No way to differentiate between your emotions and others? It's very common with psionics, unfortunately. Unless they are found young and tought almost as soon as their powers emerge, most psionics usually have a brush with insanity. You were very lucky, Remy."

"Never thought bout dat. Guess I am pretty lucky after all."

"Now finish packing." She chided him. To his surprise, when he looked up, she flashed him, before sliding out of the room with her duffle thrown over a shoulder.

_Damn. Payback, she be a bitch. A bitch wit' very impressive breasts._

* * *

The Professor and Logan handled the flight details. While Remy, Remy was a very good boy and earned her earlier offer. Not that she'd had any intention of not pulling him into the aft compartment of the jet, the one typically used for injured on the flighs back to the mansion after missions. He'd gotten her so worked up, and judging by his performance, she'd gotten to him too.

As she finished tying her boots back up, then pulled her jacket on, she flashed him a grin. "Impressive as always, Remy. I should tease you more often, it seems to make you put in some extra effort."

Remy just nodded and smirked at her. Insufferable cajun. "D'accord Stormy, but it ain't work, what we do. Dat's all pleasure. Dat lil flashing me bit, dat was good, but don'tcha t'ink dat squirming in your seat and playing wit' ya self before ya drug me back here was jus' a lil over kill?"

"You deserved it." She'd stick to her guns on that, before she walked what she was sure was a commanding way out of the aft compartment. As she strode forward, Logan looked back at her and snorted, then turned his attention back to looking out the jet windows.

A few moments later Gambit followed her, dropping into a seat next to her, and behind the cockpit.

"Good, you are both back. We'll be landing in two minutes."

Storm shot Remy a dirty look. She knew the flight time from Muir to New York. He'd kept her back there for almost two hours. Wretched man and those damned hands. He looked as if he understood her look, grinned, and she found herself damning his lips too. Damn all of him. He was going to wear her out at this rate, and she didn't have his enhanced metabolism or healing.

"Storm if you would lighten the current air turbulance and storms around Muir, so landing will be smoother?"

"Of course Professor." Extending her powers, she did as asked.

* * *

Stormy was looking pissed, and Remy was happy her eyes were off him when she put her mind into the clouds. He'd been pushing her a little to hard, maybe, but he'd never been with someone the way he had been with Stormy. Even a little kiss seemed like a searing kiss with her, and even at his most controlled, Remy knew he was addicted to touch, to pleasure. Stormy was like a treasure trove of pleasure, and he just couldn't keep his hands to himself.

He better cool down and control himself more though, one of these days he was lible to very well be getting hit by a lightning bolt or find a rain cloud appearing over his head dousing him in cold water. Well, she'd already done the last one a few times.

_So I got a healthy appetite, ain't nothing wrong wit' dat._

Then the jet was shaking, even with Storm's weather changing, and moments later the vertical engines kicked on, and he got his first look of Muir Island. It looked like a dump to him, a harsh barren crag of rock that had very little growing on it. It looked cold, but what did he expect out of an island that was on the very northern part of Scotland? Warm and welcoming? Yeah right.

Moments later, they were moving out of the jet. He offered his arm to Storm, and after a moment or two of considering, she took his hand instead of his arm, and walked with him hand in hand. Probably better, was easier to control his desires when he didn't have an arm around her warm body. That didn't last though, once they stepped outside she slipped her arm around him – probably because it draped part of his duster around her, so she could steal more of his warmth.

_Figures. De femme, she don't even really feel cold from what she tell me, but she gonna make my swamp-raised butt freeze to death in dis podunk little lab in de middle of no where. _

They hadn't made it far, before a short woman with reddish hair appeared, wearing a white lab coat.

"It's good tae see you again, Charles." She noted almost dryly Gambit thought, but she seemed sincere as she leaned down and hugged him.

"It is good to see you as well, Moira. You already know Ororo. This is Logan, or Wolverine, and the tall man currently shivering is Remy LeBeau, or Gambit."

"Hey." Logan seemed enthused as ever. He also didn't look cold. Canadian bastard.

"What's up Doc?" Remy flashed a grin, and then shivered with exaggerated calm. "De building, it be warmer den it is out here?" He hoped so. If it wasn't, he was going to spend most of this week on the Black Bird. At least it was warm.

"Aye, it's warmer lad. Although going by the sound of yuir accent and how yuir dressed, ye'd be cold anywhere in Scotland. Cajun?" Moira asked, before she turned and started walking. Talking as she went, as if for all the world they'd follow wherever she went.

_Shit, if it be warm, I be following her wherever she want. Doc ain't got such a bad ass for an older chick._

"Ow." Rubbing his back side, he gave Storm a look, but he didn't even get out a 'what was that for' before she smiled her pretend sweet smile at him. "Quit checking out Doctor MacTaggert's ass. Don't look hurt, you can look at other women, but _not_ at Moira."

"D'Accord Stormy." Well, as long as she didn't care if he looked at others. Somehow, he was beginning to wonder just how jealous of a woman Ororo was, and if she realized it was just his nature to look, to flirt, sometimes even to touch – just not crossing the line. He was with her now, she had to know he'd be faithful.

_Den again, I did tell her bout my past. Couldn't blame chere if she ain't a bit skeptical of dat, I did break my wedding vows t'Bella wit' Candra.._

* * *

"Just drop yuir things here, one of my interns will be about to take care of them for you. There's coffee waiting in the kitchen." Moira of course didn't stop, just kept on. Charles kept with her, since Logan was carrying his bags for him.

_Great. They bring me across the ocean to play bell boy. Chuck's going to pay for this. I need a raise. Shit. Now that I think about it, I don't even know if he's paying me for this shit, or for my work at the school. Gonna have me a talk with baldie once we're alone. Oh yeah._

"Before I take you to meet the patient, or go over his history with you Charles, there's someone you need to meet. It's the patients Mother. She can fill you in on the childs history."

_Huh. Why's MacTaggert smell a bit nervous or like she's about to play a trick on Chuck? Doesn't smell like she likes it either._

It didn't look like any kind of trap to Logan, as him and the lovebirds slipped into the kitchen after the Doctor. There was an older woman, about Chuck's age give or take, sitting at the table sipping from cup of tea. Logan noticed there was tea and coffee set out.

Before anything could begin, he coughed. "Got any whiskey Doc?"

"Och, I knew one of ye would ask and be of a like mind to me." She branished a bottle from a cupboard, and added a bit to her own coffee cup and his. Everyone else opted for the tea, apparently.

"Charles, I believe you remember Gabrielle Haller then?"

Charles lips were compressed and he looked... unhappy? Logan wasn't sure. He didn't look pleased, that was for sure, while the woman sitting across the table from him looked equally uncertain.

"It's been years, Charles."

"Yes, yes it has Gabrielle. About twenty years, if I remember correctly."

Logan just eyed the lovebirds. Each was studiously looking in their tea, and not at anyone else – even eachother. _Yup, they'd came to the same conclusion. Gotta be an ex. Twenty years huh? Bet she wasn't bad of a looker back then._

"21 years, actually."

"Moira? What does Gabrielle have to do with why you asked for us to come?"

The two older women looked at each other, and Moira looked at Gabrielle expectantly.

"It's been 21 years, Charles. 20 years, since David was born. I.. did not want you to meet your son this way."

"Son?"

"Merde, son!?"

Exclamations arose from their throats, Logan noticed, but Charles just frowned even more.

"David? David Haller I suppose then. Why did you keep this from me, Gabrielle?"

"Because when you left, I knew you would be consumed with your dream Charles. There was no room in your life for a young boy, and I wouldn't have David's father be someone who cared more for a cause then he would for his son. So I raised him by myself. I... was wrong. Maybe you could have helped him earlier, maybe it wouldn't have happened."

"What wouldn't have happened?" Charles sounded as close to getting upset, honestly upset, as Logan had ever heard.

"Och, Charles. David is who yuir here to help. I dunnae know if even you can help the lad. His power levels.. Charles, he's more powerful than ye are, and in more ways. Already he's exhibitted pyrokinesis, telekinesis, telepathy, an who knows what else he has lurking unrevealed yet. He's dangerous, Charles, dangerous and completely untrained... and more then a wee bit insane."

"I.. see. Very well. What caused the onset of his instability?"

All eyes turned back to Gabrielle.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Dun dun dun. Up next, Legion. Bet no one anticipated me going _this_ route. 


	18. The Many Made One

**Note: **As should become rapidly clear, I've completely reworked David Haller for my needs, rather then pulling him directly from canon. While The names Jack, Cyndi, and Jamal will come up, do not expect to see everything as you would expect if you're familiar with Legion. Also apologies for delays on update, I had this finished 10/12 but was unable to get it up until now.

* * *

"I suppose you will make me tell this too, Doctor?" Gabrielle asked with a frown, and had her question answered with just a nod of the Scottish womans head.

"Okay. When we broke up, Charles, I found out I was pregnant a month after the fact. You were off with Erik plotting the future of mutant kind, and I knew you'd never be a good Father. So I raised David on my own. He was a normal in every way that we could tell, except he suffered from Autism. He never even showed a sign of being a mutant until last year." Closing her eyes, Gabrielle sighed.

"We were in Tel Avid because of my job. I had left him with a baby-sitter/body guard for the day while I was at work. Him and his guide were caught in the midst of a suicide bomber, but he survived.."

"Och, your over-simplifying it Gabrielle. He didn't just survive, his powers manifested for the first time. As soon as the first bomb went off, David erected a telekinetic shield to protect himself, but he was nae prepared for the feeling of other people dying aground him. His powers, and his mind, did nae know how to protect himself and others from that. The best we can figure is that David absorbed everyone in the area, their psyches, into his own, before he fell into a coma." Moira was frowning at the other woman, as if she should've been able to say what she just had.

"Uhh. Pardon moi, but dis kid he pulled other people.. into his head?" Gambit knew he sounded confused, surprised. How powerful was this kid, if he could do something like that?

"Aye, that's exactly what he did Gambit." Well, that didn't reassure his feelings at all.

"After David fell into a coma, I had him brought to Moira. I didn't want to bring him to you Charles, and she was my next best hope. For the last year, Moira has been trying to help David, but until a few days ago it seemed to be for nothing. Then he woke up again..."

"Oy woman, yuir over simplifying things. If by waking up yuir trying to convey that he absorbed one of my interns and melted a wall before ye could get to him and calm him down..."

"He absorbed more people? Why?" Charles frown was more tightly compressed then anyone elses in the room.

"I dunnae know, Charlie. I think it may have been because his last memory was of the attack, and he reacted on instinct. We have nae been able to get close to him, except Gabi. He gets on edge when others come around."

"I see. What did you hope that I would be able to do, Moira? Gabrielle?" Charles didn't look like he liked this any more then Gambit felt distrust for this situation. Storm had a sad look on her face, as if she felt sorry for the poor kid, or perhaps for the people he had absorbed into him. Logan just looked bored, as if he was thinking there was no one to gut in this 'adventure'.

"Yesterday.. he asked for his Father, Charles. He asked for you. By name... I never told him you were his Father." It was Gabrielle's turn to sound scared of her own son.

_Merde! Dis gonna be a mess. Why dey bring me wit' for all dis anyway? _

* * *

"Hello.. Father." The young man was tall, skinny, with a mess of dark hair. Pale from nearly a year in a coma and lack of true sunlight except what came in from windows. His eyes looked more then a little insane.

"You can come in. I won't hurt you. You might as well bring your X-men in too, they're annoying me by standing out there thinking they might be able to get the jump on me if I did anything." David Haller's grin was a chilling one, but that wasn't what made Charles shiver. Moira had not been lying. The young mans mental shields were stronger then his own. While Jean had the potential to be stronger then he, he'd never encountered another that dwarfed his own ability so. Even untrained, Charles wasn't so sure he could pierce those mental shields.

"Very well David. Storm, Gambit, Wolverine, you may join me." That said, his attention turned back to his.. son. "Why did you ask for me David? What can I do to help you?"

"Oh, two reasons Daddy. You can help me..." The swelling of psionic energy happened so fast Charles couldn't erect a defense against it, not one that didn't crumple instantly as David's shields went down, and he assaulted all four of them.

"_Oh, and to punish you All of you._" Those words echoing through their minds, as David pulled and ripped their minds into his own, each one falling within seconds of the next. Xavier first, Gambit second, his mental shields crumpling even easier then Xavier's did, Logan fell next, the confusion and chaos that was his mind offering him no protection, and then Storm, just as her eyes had been about to shade over white, fell.

"Whooops. I've been a bad boy." Telekinetic force rippled outward from David, sealing his room off from Moira and his Mother. "You're not allowed to play!" He informed the two women pounding at the invisible walls of force that blocked the door way.

* * *

_**Welcome to Hell. Enjoy it, I've had to for a year now, Daddy, because you were too busy with your precious X-men to come help me. Because you scared Mommy and left us. So you can suffer too, and your X-men.**_

David Haller's mind-scape was a fractured place, disjointed from one corner to the next. Remy could identify bits of different cities, but they were all combined together awkwardly. Tel Avid, Paris, Jerusalem, New York, Washington D.C., Berlin, Munich, hundreds of cities that Gambit.. well. He guessed the kid had been to them while his Mom did her job as an Ambassador, but it made for an overwhelming sight. Especially combined with the swirling red and pink sky. There was no sun, it just seemed to be perpetual late after noon with diffuse light.

Small blessing, with no sunglasses. Patting his duster down, Remy checked his stock of weapons. Two decks of cards, an assortment of throwing spikes, two packs of cigarettes. Slipping one of them out, he lit it with a brush of his finger, mostly just to see if the powers still worked in this place. To his surprise, they did. Excellent. With a shrug, he tried to check with his empathy, and found himself walling the shields back up and not trying that again. Pain of every type seemed permeat the very surroundings, so strong it was threatening to overwhelm him, yet when his shields were up he didn't even sense it battering at his shields.

"Dis jus' be great. Dey never mentioned not'ing like dis when I joined de X-men. Now what? Where de others be, anyway?"

Taking a drag off his cigarette, he took in the bleak view. There didn't seem to be any people around at this weird city-scape. Everything looked mostly fresh – except blocks that looked rent by battle – but there were no people.

"Stormy." Swalling, Gambit did the one thing he wasn't sure he wanted to do. Started climbing the nearest multi-story building, so he could get a decent view of the area, maybe catch a glimpse of Logan, Ororo, or Charles. One of them had to have an idea of what the hell they were doing here, didn't they? That'd be a better clue then what Gambit had.

* * *

_Aw sonofabitch. Knew that rotten little kid was up to no good. Never trust the loonys Charlie. Shit, this kids screwed up. His voice all booming across this place too. So we're gonna be his play toys are we? I don't think so kid. _

Popping his claws just to make sure they were still with him, grinning in satisfaction at the sight of them extending, he retracted them. Not even wincing at the pain that came from having razor sharp adamantium claws breaking skin, or as his healing factor reknit the damage.

Sniff. Sniff. Lots of scents, but most of them were old. Definitely were fights in this place at some point, and he could just catch the scent of Charles to the north, the direction the wind was coming out of. Go after Chuck, or stick to it on his own? Chuckie was soft hearted, might not have the cajones to do what needed doing. Then again, Logan had to admit he wasn't entirely sure what would happen if he gutted David here. Wherever the heck here was.

Then again, Chuck might not have his Wheel chair here..._Damnit._ With a grunt of disatisfaction, and a few moments of reluctant consideration, Logan began to slip up alley ways, sticking to shadows. Relying on the black ops training he never remembered actually receiving, but was none the less fully there in his mind just waiting to be used, he moved like a ghost through the city.

_**Oh. There you are. Really now, running won't help. Watch Daddy! Watch how good I am. With me you wouldn't even need the X-men!**_

Logan's screams rent the city, as his mind was invaded. It wasn't the light touch like Charles used when they had their sessions to try and find out parts of his past. It was like a sledge hammer was being pushed through his nose into his brain at a few thousand miles an hour. Logan's world exploded in colors and memories. Colors that took on the shimmering steel of a katana, the glistening silver of a Samurai's armor, beautiful dark eyes of a woman he seemed to know, another dark eyed woman – Yukio the ronin quite a bit younger. Plum trees falling. Another samurai, no armor for this one.

Even when the pain of having a sledge hammer broke through his mind and passed, Logan found himself dazzled. Memories were swirling through his mind.

_I remember. Some of it. I remember._ _Her name was Mariko.. she was my wife. Honor._ He couldn't straighten out his thoughts, memories were bubbling up like gas bubbles in a swamp, coming to the surface and chilling him with years of his life he hadn't ever considered before. Old memories, memories where he didn't have adamantium in his bones, and his fighting had been done by katana, knives, and with his fists.

He remembered where he learned how to fight with a katana. Where he learned martial arts. A very unkindly faced man named Ogun swam before his eyes almost, then drifted away. He remembered apple blossoms and night spent amidst sheets with Mariko. The memories seemed to span three or four years of time spent in Japan.

"Logan. Logan, are you alright?" Chuck's voice drawing him out of his thoughts, and Logan found he could look at Charles.

I'm fine, Charles. Logan answered without thinking, and just frowned at Charles when he looked confused. What's your problem?

"You are speaking in Japanese, Logan." Charles was still frowning, but Logan realized he was looking up at Charles. Who wasn't in a wheel chair, but standing tall. _Huh. Guess if we're in some mind freaky stuff, that makes some kind of sense that he doesn't think of himself as a cripple._

"Oh. Get over it bub. Whatever yer son just did to me, I remember now. Parts. How come he could do that, and ya can't Chuck? You been holding out on me?" Eyes narrowing, a bit of a growl escaping from his lips. To his surprise, Charles didn't look the least afraid, and just shook his head sadly.

"David appears to be significantly more powerful then I am, Logan. I never even found as much as a whiff of memories prior to your adamantium. How David did, I do not know.."

"Whatever. So what now?" The memories were still bubbling, Logan pushed that to the side. He would explore them. Soon. Once he had wrapped a hand around this Haller's neck and demanded he pull out the rest of his memories. There had to be more. There had to be.

"What we always do, Logan. We stand up against impossible odds." Charles sounded almost amused, Logan thought. Maybe because he was in the field. It wasn't like Chuck came into the field a whole lot. Maybe the walking again was getting to him or something? Sniff. Sniff. He smelled normal.

* * *

_Oh Bright Lady, what happened?_

Storm quelled the instant moments of panic when she awoke in what felt like a very cramped space. Moments later winds burst away from her, and she felt somewhat silly, when she realized she'd just woke up in a cardboard box in a street, not in any kind of thing that could actually contain her.

Taking in the oddly mish-mashed city, her breath was drawn in in a gasp. She had never seen a mindscape that looked so confused and unnatural before. She had seen glimpses of hers and others in the past. Her own was like nature itself, varying from geological setting to match her moods, but always natural. The other Mindscape she had seen had been a thing of darkness and terror. The Shadow King. He was truly a terrifying person, even without his powers.

Yet this was not the Shadow King's work, she was looking at. It was a confused young mans. She needed to find Remy. Remy and the others, of course, but where was Remy? Occasionally it seemed like David's voice boomed across the sky, but there was nothing assaulting her, as of yet.

With a shrug, she called upon the winds, to carry her up. They were a bit slower to react here – perhaps because she was fighting against David's control of his own mind to manipulate such a basic thing as the weather, but they did respond after some delay, carrying her up into the air so she could perch on a roof top.

A flickering, unsteady apparation appeared before her. A muslim man was frowning at her. "Becareful here, Wind Rider. The weather is a part of David's landscape, your powers will be of less use to you then the others are to them because of that. Your friend is that way." A point.

"Who are you? What are you?" At first she had thought a ghost, but that faint flickering image.. It was an astral projection! There was another telepath here, one that wasn't David or Charles.

"Becareful here." With that, he was gone, and Storm was frowning. Did she trust his directions? Turning her gaze that way, she caught a glimpse of brown rustling along other rooftops. It could be Remy's duster, he wouldn't stay totally in the open. Not her thief.

With a frown and mindful of the warnings, she manipulated the winds once again. Not to fly, but to give her the distance to jump roof tops. Three rooftops later, she landed from a jump in a crouch, to see her cajun about to jump roof tops himself, before he twirled to look at her.

And then gasp in shock and horror when he turned to face her. His eyes were glowing a dark red, and his grin was.. evil. Not the one she knew Remy could wear, such as when he'd pinched her bottom and suggested they try... well. No. Not that. This was sheer evil, cruel, dark. Only one person had facial expressions like that.

The Shadow King. The odd red/orange/pink sky turned dark with clouds as lightning began to rain down at the fake cajun, and he danced between lightning strikes. Louder then the wind were her shouts of "No!" and "I will not be your slave again!" Winds whipped through the air, even a tornado was summoned from the skies. All of it for naught, when that lightning fast figure clipped her with an almost gentle blow to the back of the head.

_Why would the shadow king fight me like this..? _ Then she was experiencing unconsciousness, and being scooped up in strong arms.

_**Oh, impressive Father. The so called Goddess can't even see through an illusion.**_

* * *

When she awoke, it was in Gambit's arms, his coat swallowing both of them, her head on his shoulder. She kissed his neck lightly, and nuzzled against him. "I'm sorry, Remy. I thought... I thought.."

"It be okay, Stormy. I be fine,ya aim was pretty crappy cuz ya panicked. Was able t'dodge de lightning, for de most part. But whatever ya did out dere still be raging. Can ya make it stop? It ripping dis city apart." He was warm, his voice soft and soothing as his arms around her were. There was no seduction in his touch, not this time.

With a sigh, she reached out towards the weather.. and shivered and shook her head. "I can't touch it, Remy. It's too ragged, to chaotic to get a grip on it. I think.." She frowned. Where were they, anyway? It looked like a cave of some sort, with a fire burning. She hadn't even noticed Charles or Logan, both watching her and Remy until Charles spoke.

"It's alright, Ororo. I didn't think it was possible. David tricked you into using your powers, into summoning a storm of that magnitude. It's destroying the city-scape in his mind. He should have been able to change it himself, he is powerful enough, but I don't think he knows how. So he used you to destroy it, so that he can.." Charles shrugged. He didn't sound like he was exactly sure what his son was trying to do.

"Yer son is a nut case, Chuckles. So what, we wait out the storm in here?"

Storm frowned. This was.. worse then she had imagined it might be. Charles looked thoughtful, but the apperation was back, the projection of the muslim man was back.

"If I may make a suggestion?"

All of their eyes shifted immediately, and she felt Remy tense and knew he had a throwing spike – or cards – ready. Logan's claws popped out, while Charles just looked thoughtful.

"You, you were the one who set me up.." Storm hissed.

A flickering hand raised. "Not so. I sent you towards your young lover. I did not realize David was intending for exactly that. Thankfully, he didn't notice my appearance to you. I am still able to conceal myself from him, sometimes. I do not have long."

A forestalling hand was raised, so they didn't waste his time with useless questions.

"There used to be hundreds of us, in here with David. A few of us are mutants. At first it was just chaos, a mad battle for survival. All of us against eachother, against David. Some of us, the mutants, went to David for each of us our own reasons. I went to help him. He didn't know how to heal his mind, how to eject our psyches from him. While it was not the best solution.. I have been helping him heal his fractured mind. By killing many of the others. They, we, have been too long trapped in his mind. Our bodies may be dead, or they may not be, but even David couldn't put us back. It's been too long away from our bodies."

Charles merely nodded, but frowned at the implications. Storm was shivering. Killing psyches? It was no worse then murder.

"As the number of minds within his mind scape began to decrease, David began to heal. He came out of his coma recently, when we were down to seven of us. There are now five of us left, and David for some reason does not wish to remove any of us five. However, not all of us five have his best interest at heart. Two of the others at the least think they can over-take his body if a few more of us are removed. I am the prime candidate for elimination. David himself, for all of his power, lacks the ability to finish off anyone here. Once something is begun, he can strengthen it, or weaken it, but he cannot make changes here entirely on his own."

A gesture at the storm beyond. "He used you to annihilate the parts of his mind scape he hates. Perhaps taking some of the memories with them, I cannot say. David's mind is complex beyond reason. He intends to build a garden over the cities location, a garden and a mansion." A glance at Charles at that.

"He wants your help. He thinks you, for some reason, will help him become whole again." The man frowned, shook his head.

"I am Jamal. Beware all others you find here. None of the others have David's best interest at heart. They merely wish to use him, to regain their own lives. They refuse to accept that our lives are gone, and all we can hope to do is help David." A sad shake of his head.

"I must go. His attention is shifting, and I cannot let him listen to Jack without counter counsel."

The projection vanished.

* * *

"I don't like dis. How we know dat man not be lying? Could be. I be lying if I in his place. Who want t'die? No one sane. Like he say, mebbe he just want de competition offed, so dat he can take over David, eh? No like Astral projections, can't tell if dere lying.."

Remy was muttering, but his arms stayed around Storm who still remained in his arms. She was looking thoughtful, maybe at his words, or maybe at her own thoughts. When he pinched her rear, she shifted and poked him in the ribs, then smiled at him.

"Remy may be right. Can we trust any of the people who remain here in David's mind?" Storm hated to be suspicious, Remy could tell, but she seemed to share his doubts.

Logan just looked at his still extended claws. Although Gambit thought it was an odd look. As if Logan were wishing they were another weapon. Logan was always a confusing wash of emotions, and right now he was even more confusing to Remy then ever.

Charles however just had his lips compressed.

"Jamal was telling the truth, about most things. None of them could be returned to their bodies, not after a year. From what Gabrielle said of the attack, it's unlikely most of their bodies are even alive to attempt to be returned to. As distasteful as it may be.. I believe the correct course of action is to help David put the last of these five to rest, so that he can heal."

_Heh. Sure, dat de right course of action mon ami. Dat just cuz it ya son, and ya feel guilty for not being dere for him? For not being round t'train him to deal wit' his powers, dat all dis is ya fault cuz ya didn't know ya had a kid?_

It was a disturbing thought. Did he have any unknown children? He'd been with many women. Many. Some multiple times, some just once. Bella? Candra? Yukio? Vertigo? Arclight? Alexandra? Who knew what happened with them after he'd broken up with them, or walked out of their lives.

_Or what Sinister do wit' dem.. He can clone people, after all._ That sent cold shivers down his spine, and Ororo was shifting to look at him quizzically. He tried to offer her a reassuring smile.

"So, we help de kid out eh?" Three other heads nodded.

"D'accord. So.. where we go?" Why was he doing this? Oh, because being insane was apparently a requirement for being an X-man.

"The top of the mountain. That is where we have to go." Charles answered, looking out the cave mouth. The storm had passed more into the city, while the edges – rain and fairly strong winds still gusted out there, it wasn't enough to keep them penned down.

"And just what are we doing at the top, Chuck?" Logan was looking for some kind of confirmation.

"We help David." Logan nodded, and eyed his hands again. As if he was still waiting to find something there, other then the claws that were lurking in his arms.

_Mon ami going weird on us._

* * *

_Dis just be creepy. Dat's all dere is to it._

Remy frowned, when they'd came out of the cave. A mountain rose up above them. A creepy looking mountain, with multiple paths up it. Not a huge thing, but tall enough. It was creepy because what it represented. Every so often along the path, a grave stone rose marking where one of the people David had absorbed was apparently put to rest.

The weirdest part was while they climbed, there was no opposition, but at the top of the mountain energy could be seen flung now and then. Fire, objects thrown by telekinesis, the sound of battle. Once they'd progressed far enough up the mountain to begin hearing the sounds of battle though, urgency grew in all of them. Logan's jaw was tightened, and his fingers kept flexing as if he was preparing to extend them.

His Stormy had her jaw set tightly. Remy reflected perhaps that was because whatever they did 'someone' would end up dying in whatever was about to come, if people weren't already. Charles was impossible to read. He couldn't touch the mans emotions, and his face was entirely blank except for one thing. Determination.

Still, before they made the peak, more of a plateau then anything, there had been a few screams that Gambit recognized for what they were. Death crys. It was an odd sight that waited for them at the top of the peak. A taboo of some sort, really.

David, the scrawny man-child, sat upon a flat stone surrounded by a ring of fire, and a crackling halo of telekinetic power. Outside of the protective wards, three people were left battling eachother. A woman throwing fire, a ragged caucasion man warding himself from those flames with telekinesis. And the Muslim man who seemed to be ignored by the other two for the moment. Gambit couldn't get a read on his emotions or Hallers either – telepathy.

"You three.. so confident you could use me. But I will use you. I am Legion, The Many Made One. But the only way I can be one with you is if you die. So join your bretheren!" David was looking at Charles while he spoke, but his actions definitely weren't aimed at Xavier.

Even as he spoke, the womans fire seemed to strike the man, and the mans telekinesis seemed to strike her at the same time. That was when David, no Legion's, telekinetic bubble lessened, and he struck. Changing what would have been harsh wounds into killing blows.

A reminder of what Jamal had told them, perhaps he hadn't been lying, otherwise the young man could have struck them down at any time, but as the two were reduced to lifeless husks by Legion's powers he grinned a sick grin at them all.

"I will make the world right, Father. I have the power to _make_ them understand. I can make your dream a reality. I can do anything.." Then he frowned, at Jamal.

"Of course, your left. I'm afraid I can't do that while your still alive. That won't do at all. You." Haller smirked, pointing at Logan. Who stiffened, and growled. "Kill him, and I will unlock your memories. All of them. Father can't do it, but I can. It may kill you though.. but it'd be worth it, wouldn't it Wolverine?"

Remy expected a denial, instead Logan's claws unsheathed and he growled deep in the back of his throat. _Oh dis no good at all. Who we supposed to be helping here? Not sure if we supposed to protect dis homme, or David, or ourselves..._

No one else seemed to have any clue either. Storm looked shocked, and Xavier was frowning. Logan looked ready to murder Jamal, but was holding himself back. He wouldn't have, even the other day, for the answers offered him. What had changed in him? Something clearly had.

Gambit frowned at the cards in his hand, and looked back at the taboo.

"No, David, I do not think so." Charles voice seemed to surprise everyone. "You cannot force others, even if you can. That is not the way son. We are not Gods, to be changing other peoples lives, their beliefs, just because we are able to. Responsibility is called for, and people must be allowed to be themselves, not puppets played by our strings."

Jamal was nodding to that, which confused Gambit. Hadn't the man said he wanted to heal David?

"Return us to our bodies, David, and I will help you heal your mind. Help you overcome what has caused this, what has caused you pain. I will be the Father to you I never knew I was." Charles was pleading, Remy realized. Which was an odd thing to hear, given the Professor's normal in control demeanor.

"Lies! You just want me neutralized, kept off balance. You don't want me to succeed where you failed, _Father_. Your dream is failing! Already there are forces preparing for a war, not just Magneto's. I can feel them out there, they think their safe, hidden behind mental shields, but I can see beyond them! I can feel the fire and death that is coming, and I can **change** it Father! I can make your dream a reality, make mutants and humans co-exist. Put an End to war, bring out culture and learning. I can do it!"

"No, David. No!" That was Charles. Gambit on the other hand was charging his cards, and Logan seemed paralyze in indecision. Storm was beginning to crackle with lightning, her eyes whited over.

"No David, you cannot." Yet it was Jamal who said that, and he sounded sad. "Forgive me Charles. He will need your help."

Confused looks crossed everyones faces, even David's, but he screamed in rage. "You can't take me over! No!"

"I am sorry." Jamal sounded sorry, but even as the X-men moved to attack – Gambit and Logan at Jamal, Storm appearing ready to hold off David, Charles looking baffled – or perhaps his battle was on another level. Yet the world began to drift away from them, before any of their attacks could land.

* * *

When the world returned to color, it was the hospital room in Muir, where they had all been absorbed originally. The telekinetic field around the door still held, it seemed, and David was looking sadly at his hands. _Or is it Jamal now?_

Charles frowned, looking at his X-men as they began to slowly stir. Not as used to such rejoining and leaving of bodies as Xavier was.

"Jamal?" Cautiously asked.

"Yes, Charles. I am still struggling against David. It will be some time before he realizes he has all of the power he'd ever need to decide the struggle between us, but until he overcomes those limits, I can provide a balancing force against him. He will hate me for it, but since I am the last one left, I have enough strength to hold him now."

"I see. Is he powerful enough to do as he said, Jamal?"

Flat. "Yes. What abilities he didn't possess originally, he took on from those he absorbed. There is little your son is not capable of. He is a threat to everything. He will hate me for it, but until he has come to beat me – he can't until he learns some of what I have to teach him, he will learn what you tried to tell him. I hope."

"Your companions, are they fully back in their bodies? It was a struggle to get all four of you out at the same time."

Charles frowned, and checked mentally. Gambit's shields weren't up yet, and he only carefully checked the young mans thoughts. Just fine. Ororo's were intact. Logan's were a chaotic mess – as always, but seemed fine, if more filled then previously.

"Yes, they are. Will you be able to help him Jamal?" Charles wasn't sure he could trust the man, but so far he had followed his words.

"I will. He needs your help too though, not now, but in time. Thank you for trusting me, Charles." With that, the telekinetic shield about the door fell away, and his sons body fell over on the bed, apparently unconscious. A brief glimpse showed the truth though. Jamal had put David back into a coma, while they waged their battle in David's mind.

* * *

"So, ya telling me we wandered round dat son of yas mind for five six hours, an dat it was all pretty much for not'ing?" Gambit frowned. It didn't make any sense to him. The whole trek, what had happened in there, the changes in Logan, the way Storm clutched his hand as if afraid of letting go of that physical contact. It didn't make much sense to him at all.

"Not necessarily, Gambit. Some good was done, I think. Storm's work allowed for the eventual rebuilding of a new mental landscape for David, which is incredibly important. If he rebuilds a stable solid foundation, it could almost entirely heal his mind. Logan has gained some insight into himself, and found that there is _honor_ to be had in sacrificing what you want most, for Good to win the day. I.. have learned that I have neglected my son, and others." Charles frowned.

"Our presence, chaotic as it was, seemed to have spurned the final motions of 'healing' of David's mind, and Jamal is helping David heal even now. And you Remy, did you learn anything of yourself in this?"

Storm looked up questioningly at him, even Logan turned to eye him from scowling at Charles for the mention of honor, to see if the cajun had had any revelations.

"Non. Just dat for de first time, see why most people a bit creeped out by ya telepaths." A grin was on his lips, he knew. That was all he'd learned. And that kids with that much power scared the shit out of him. If that kid was so powerful, what really could they ever hope to do against him? For the first time, Remy felt outclassed or helpless against someone.

_Don't much like dat feeling, neither._

"Now what, Charles?" Ororo asked, raising her head from Gambit's shoulder so she could make eye contact with Xavier.

"I will remain here at Muir for a few days more, the rest of you shall return to the mansion. I need to work out some things with Moira. I fear when David wakes up, we will have an interesting situation. He may either be a future team-mate amongst the X-men, or an enemy. And I have no idea which it may be."

Charles frowned. Ororo trembled. Logan growled. Gambit? Well. Gambit just shivered.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Not the ending to this that I imagine most expected. No heroic dashing saves by the X-men, but that's the way the story goes sometimes. Sometimes the Kings, Queens, Bishops, become pawns. 


	19. Epilogue

The flight back across the pond had been interesting. Logan had stayed away from them, and mostly sulked to himself while smoking a cigar. Lost in thoughts, Gambit had figured. Mean while, Ororo had decided to begin teaching Remy more about flying the jet. That had came to an end when Logan had stormed out of the back of the yet to growl at them, after Remy had done one to many loop de loops.

He didn't see why the man was so upset, usually he'd be laughing about such a thing. But there was no accounting for what had happened to Logan on the trip.

When Storm landed the bird, they found Scott was waiting for them at the exit from the hanger.

"Welcome back you three, everything go okay? Where's the Professor?"

"Get outta my way, Cyke." Logan grumbled, pushing him aside and stalking off.

Scott just looked after him, rubbing his shoulder, and muttered. Gambit distinctly heard something about pissing in his cereal. Remy wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"The Professor is remaining on Muir Island for a few more days to study his son, and make some preparations with Moira. He'll call when he's ready for you to come pick him up, Scott."

Remy enjoyed the priceless look on Scott's face as he disbelievingly asked 'Son?' and seemed like he had to shake himself out of a bad dream. Or perhaps it was a nightmare. Who could say? Remy wasn't totally sure how much of a father/son bond existed between Scott and Charles, beyond Scott was legaly adopted as his son.

_Guess it kinda like finding out ya got an adopted brother, or something. Mebbe._

"Oiu. De Professor's son be de reason we had to go to Muir. Bit of a nutjob dat kid, but in a coma again now. Mebbe a problem another day, eh? You get your report later, Boyscout. Me and 'Ro got somet'ings we need to be talking about."

Not giving Scott time to demand answers, he gave her hand a light tug towards the door, to start the long walk up towards the attic. At least the elevator would make by-passing the majority of students easy. He didn't want to deal with them right now, even though he could feel curiosity surging through the mansion, and wariness. People must've been running into Logan.

Storm's hand clutched his tightly as they walked, but she was eying him quizzically. He could tell she was fighting down the urge to ask what they had to talk about, but he didn't think she was conciously aware of how tight she'd been gripping his hand whenever she wasn't occupied with doing something lately.

* * *

_I was married once. I'm a Widower._

The thoughts didn't cause him to flex his hands like he wanted to pop his claws at least, and he was able to recognize the memories for honest ones now. He'd slipped out of the mansion as soon as he could, out to the dock by the boat house. The kids would all be in doors at this time of the evening, and it afforded him some alone time.

For once he didn't find his eyes drawn towards the light that was Jean and Scott's room. He had much more important things on his mind then the redhead he could never have, anyway. Almost callously, cruelly, Legion had broken a horde of his old life free from where they had been repressed. Or maybe they were just hidden. Logan didn't know what had been done to him, but now he knew some of it.

The earliest memories of Japan started with a man named Ogun. It was almost 19 years ago, if he had done the mental calculations right. He had no idea why he'd ended up in Japan, oddly the earliest of his memories indicated he'd been part of a ship wreck and had amnesia. He'd picked a fight with the man who'd found him – Ogun. A fight that had ended badly, embarrassingly badly, but had impressed Ogun enough to warrant him being trained by the man.

He'd spent two years with Ogun. Two years learning the way of the Samurai, fighting with the Katana, the martial arts. Learning Honor. Two years of Master/Apprentice that had ended with Logan learning that so much of what Ogun had taught him, the man himself didn't truly believe in. He'd killed Ogun, when Ogun tried to possess his body for his own.

_A non-japanese body. It is beneath me, but you are a unique one Logan. Your healing is extraordinary, your reflexes amazing, the enhanced senses.. think of what a true Master could do possessing those capabilities?_

He could recall those words, the scorn the man had for taking a hairy somewhat short westerners body, but he'd wanted it. After that, he'd wandered for a time, pulled some work as a bodyguard and a not quite honest job working with the Yakuza of House Yashida. It was where he had met Mariko, and fallen in love with her. Despite her brothers protests, they had married after only seeing each other for eight months. Not quite half a year later, the grudge that came of their marriage resulted in her death by the hands of her brother.

Mental images of a man bound in silver armor, calling himself the Silver Samurai flashed through his mind. Logan remembered something else. He had a deposit box in New York waiting for him, even after all these years. It'd still be there. The Honor Blade of Clan Yashida. Perhaps he would reclaim it..

_Fer what? Ain't got no use for a blade. Mariko..How could I have forgotten you, Mariko? How?_

He remembered Yukio too. She'd been little more then a teenager then, and already in the blacks of a Ronin. For all that she claimed the Title of a Ronin, she worked for House Yashida, Mariko's brother in particular, but over time her loyalties had come to be with Mariko not her brother. He remembered her urging him to leave Japan after Mariko's death.

Remembered her pushing him onto a flight out of Japan, after a chance encounter on the streets had revealed to him some of his past identity. He was Special Forces military, and they wanted him back. He'd left Japan with Mariko unavenged. Somehow though, he knew there was more to it that he didn't remember. There was no other way to explain how he didn't feel the need for retribution, for vengeance.

_Mariko Yashida. God bless your memory._

He realized he was crying, and growled. The Wolverine didn't cry, but he couldn't stop himself. He'd never realized he'd loved and lost so deeply, and now that knowing made him hurt all over. A pain that made the pain of his claws cutting through his knuckles seem like nothing.

* * *

"Remy? Remy?..."

Ororo wasn't sure what he had wanted to talk to her about. He was being confusing. Once they'd gotten up into the attic, he'd just stopped and looked at her. His face unreadable, his devils eyes shimmering in the darkness. When they'd stepped in, he'd only shifted the lights to dim, which she didn't question. His eyes were sensitive to light, she knew, and she herself could see fairly well in even dim lightings.

As a grin spread across her lips, she felt a grin start to match on her own lips, but she kept it from doing so. Out of annoyance at him. Here he was grinning at her after staring off into no where for sometime, worrying her.

"Oh, sorry chere. Was just t'inking. Ya know dat whatever else happens, ya won't lose me, yeah? Y'got me heart and soul, Stormy, dere ain't not'ing dat gonna change dat."

How did he do that? Raise her ire just a little, and then pull the rug out from under her. It was so hard not to just stare into his exotic eyes as he watched her with a look of concern. He was being honest again, and she found she'd moved without realizing it. To run her fingers along his jaw lightly. He was lightly tanned, contrasting to her own chocolate colored skin. Faint stubble marked that it was indeed somewhat late at night, and been hours since he'd last shaved.

This close, his scent was thick in the air. Cigarettes, spices, and a natural musk that smelled sinfully delicious. She must have lost concentration, because his hand gently brushed her cheek, and he repeated his words for her. Surely, she hadn't gotten _that_ distracted in running her finger tips along his jaw.

"Of course I know that Remy. I feel the same way, and you know that. What did you want to talk about?" Concern still touched her tone, she knew, but she couldn't stop her fingers from tracing his features. Touching him was addictive, she knew from experience, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Stormy.. you been clutching onto my hand so tightly it hurt a bit since dat stuff wit' Legion. What gotten into ya, chere? It ain't like ya to be like dat. Like you afraid dat I not be dere for you. You worried bout dat bit of throwing lightning at me? Talk to me, mon amour."

Her fingers traced over his full lips. They were lightly moist, and grinning, she ran her fingers along his cheek, over his ear, behind it, into his hair. Where her fingers curled in the reddish-brown hair, and gripped firmly.

"I _can_ be like that, Remy. Legion.. used my fear of the Shadow King. Possessing _you_."

He looked sad, but he didn't move his head at all. Probably because her fingers had a firm enough grip he wasn't going to be able too without it causing him pain, or him losing some hair. To her surprise, his arms slipped around her, and she felt those strong hands caressing her back. Fingers of a master thief working the knots of fear and tension out of her back.

"Was an illusion, chere. T'get ya to do what he wanted. Ya ain't got nothing to fear, eh? Dis Shadow King, he got beat by Xavier. He come back, we beat him again. Dese guys like dat? Dey just road blocks t'get past. Me an you, we forever Stormy. Let guys like Shadow King and Sinister come, we send dem packing eh? We like de beaches in Maui. De tides beat at dem again and again, but all dey do is move a few flicks of sand, an de beach, de beach it always dere. An it always look beautiful. Dat de kinda foundation we got, non?"

That answer had an undeniable smile upon her lips. He sounded so sure, so cocky, so full of bravado, and so sincere. Like he believed that their love alone made them untouchable. That from a man who had known love only to bring pain to him or to those he loved. He had that much faith in them...

She wasn't aware that tears were trickling against her cheeks, because she was focusing on the feeling of his lips pressed against hers. Not the passionate consuming kiss, but soft kisses, lips clinging and reaching for eachother. She wasn't sure how long they kissed for, it didn't matter, long enough for her tears to have dried on her cheeks though, before she finally began to lean back, before catching his lower lip between hers, and giving it a faint nibble before stepping back.

"You're right, Remy. Put some music on? I'm going to freshen up..."

She tossed a smile at him as he slipped towards the stereo, and she grabbed her bag before heading into the bath room.

* * *

As a light rain began to fall on previously clear night, like nature was crying, Logan just grunted. However, there was no grimace or mutter about Ororo. It seemed to fit his mood and thoughts for once. The feeling of earth itself weeping was oddly appropriate, as the man called Logan mourned his dead wife for the first time in fifteen years.

* * *

**Author's note:** And that concludes this particular story. I'll be launching into the sequal shortly, unless something distracts me. Logan has regained some of his memories. Gambit and Storm have found some happiness in each other. Scott and Jean are enjoying themselves. And darkness and evil await them on the horizon, as hinted at by Legion. Sinister is out there, so is Weapon X, and who all knows what other evil lurks in the shadows. It is the end of this story and the beginning of the next, because future stories, while Gambit will remain the (or one of the) central characters, it's now more focused on the X-men in general.

Feed back is majorly appreciated on what has been written however. Please feel free to make suggestions or things you might like to see in the future, or thoughts on what's already been written – particularly if it's something that will help future writing, or might fit my style. My contact info (messengers) is in my profile if anyone wishes to speak with me about past or future story arc stuff.


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